~ ~ ~ slowly ~ ~ ~ and in silence the mist absorbs
the lakes and the hills . . . trees become indistinct
and distance vanishes . . . . . .
only the flowers and grasses nearby seem to be
on this earth ~ ~ ~ ~ birds fly out of nowhere and
back into nowhere again . . . . . . . .
There is intimacy in the soft air ~ ~ reverence ~
and peace . . . . . . . . the great peace of
a soul that knows that the sun still shines ~ ~ ~
~ ~ that the hills and lakes are just beyond ~
~ ~ ~ where they have always been ~ ~ ~ ~
and ~ knowing these things ~ ~ ~
finds loveliness in the mystic mist . . . . . . . .
~…
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Sacred Touches 