Om

Take a shot at me; you'll never miss.
The folk scene in England,
California's freedom, the burning sun
Activity, dancing, drumming, this -
Is death returned to life.

Take a glance at me, you'll never guess
What nonsense is spoken in the hall,
They gave us not a thing, nothing at all,
Without listening, suddenly heard a Yes -
Mother to become a wife.

I'll set out sailing, glad to be free -
Singing out across the ocean
How each soul reached perfection
Gently placed in our shared melody
Oh sweet rest, silent rest, so tight -

Now there's a young soul glancing
All below that sheltering bough
That shades him and his loving cow,
The Truth in him, always laughing, dancing
Deep into the early morning light;

Thankfully, oh gratefully, JOYFULLY SING
These dancing folk mother nature's praise
Would find rest in work's perfection days
And wrapped up in love, most anything
Would seem most like a dancing step -

And power is here, but more so love,
Where light awakens heart's beauty song
And stepping light, there following along
A black swan where it should never be.
Timeless, out of space and without voice,
A formless bird from unknown dimension
Matchless - she's born of light and dark.
With divine beauty and infinite grace, all,
Unsung, nor heard, nor spoken, or known,
But written in hearts forgotten long ago,
Beyond our remembrance and forgetfulness -
Beyond the end of captivity and deliverance.