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,
shouts up leaves,
Glist'ning, list'ning
To 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 innocence
void of fears,
A spell of trust
that 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 in 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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