I Play The Harp

I play the harp;
It understands
What’s in my hands;
And what’s in me my hands set free:

Delicate joy
For simply being,
Delicate love
For all I’m seeing:

Quiet hills
That roll out far
To where all shimm’ring
Waters are;

Where, up with sun,
Fulfilling dawn,
Arising birds
Flash on and on;

Where Laughter, silent,
Lifts up leaves,
List’ning, quiv’ring,
Through the harp-like breeze.

For I am a wind
That is never still,
Unbeatable rush
Of a trembling trill,

And through soft hands,
Quick fingers, light,
I ripple the message
“All is right”.

For all IS right
In the center—-me,
When I’m free to be
What I choose to be:

A teller of tales
That weave a spell
In the heart and mind
Of who listens well;

A spell of innocense
Void of fears,
A spell of trust
Thatr fakes no tears,

A spell of the awe
Of my childhood’s flight
When Lo! I saw
The perfect sight.

A face reflecting
Mine brand new,
A mindful soul
Connecting through,

A being glad
To spell in me
And weave one life
Of integrity.

Integrity, Adventure,
Flight,
Joined on joy
In our marriage rite.

And that is why,
Seeing eye to eye,
I play the harp.
It understands what’s in my hands.

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