Here is another poem I wrote while experiencing the presence of the cosmic Christ through meditating at the river at Wild Goose festival.
May it bless you!
in crevices of rocks,
in whispered voices of rustling leaves,
in flowing streams that call out in wordless rhymes
our hearts hear, as they interpret for us
thoughts too deep
for our conscious minds to know
in cicada cries that set my spirit dancing
in step with echoes of a knowing deep and true,
beyond all images, even language itself.
These thin places, o Cosmic Christ,
are where I feel
your hand taking mine
like my own brother
leading me up craggy cliffs
as we climb beyond mist-filled valleys
dim with shadow
embraced by that Spirit
whose song surrounds us
in every greening leaf
and heartbroken face
now cracking with the dawning
of laughter, song, and story
where the full-throated wail
of sorrow, trauma, loss once reigned.