Nothing matters but the silence,
The whispers echo far and deep,
Words cannot embrace this religion,
Religion is for the heart that weeps,
The soul has been in love forever,
With this sighing melody.
Faith thunders as prayers roar,
Drenched in madness, fires soar,
Chaos teases the seeking mind,
Peace was never meant to be.
Alas temptation blinds all senses!
Such is the death of truthful sleep,
Life mirrors what intent devises,
Let intent all conscience reap.
Only then will whispers murmur,
Only then will silence call,
Let not thy life in deafness wander,
Release thyself from worldly charm.
Nothing matters but the silence….
This realm I seek,
This realm I seek….
A million times the heart has broken,
and mended: A silent miracle.
A thousand times the mind has smoldered,
and ashes kept: In sacred urn.
But only once will this bird fly,
when invisible hand turns the key of cage: To free the wings of destiny.
Broken, burnt, empty,
I sit down under a Tree in the dense forest of thought,
The sounds of leaves in silent speech enchant my mind and heart,
The brook is respectful and bubbles softly in quiet friendship,
Dainty blossoms wink with naughty glance,
And the Philosopher tall and I are engaged in deeper talk.
It tells me of a story that long ago began,
Winds, earth, and fire all in ancient dance,
It talks of wisdom in unknown prose,
The roots in earths soul are hid,
And the handsome trunk is witness to solid truth.
The branches are veined with dark austerity,
Souls emerge and evolve and in gentle movements stir,
The Tree is a guardian to these wanderers.
I learn of life from each leaf that falls,
Destiny, fate, birth and death all in a glance,
The Giant relives stories and tales of yore,
In leafy speech of unequalled eloquence It tells all,
Perplexed and bewitched with such fluent grace,
I bow with reverence to this Preacher Green,
And to my simple mind such wisdom brings.
How the creatures of the forest adore,
And in the loving bark do rest,
The sun, and clouds in care do give,
Their pride and joy to leaves that bring,
Hope and dreams to beings all,
As the Philosopher in green of rustling voice does talk,
And I am a pilgrim on a path unclear.
The rain in pitter-patter falls,
And swaying leaves in joy do drink the dew,
In quiet ways I listen and ponder and close my eyes,
And visions of pastel mists with wings do fly,
Is the image in my inward mind a visage real?
All is still, and the rustling leaves are hushed by escaping dreams,
And as I open my eyes I truly see,
The Tree in dim rays of sun does smile,
And in all its glory a wave of affection it bestows,
The spirit of the Tree now in me breathes,
And gentle thoughts like inspiring swaying leaves,
The true nature of life is what I seek to know,
And how my mind in knowing rivers flow.
Twilight in starry plummets fall,
The colors of dark and light do merge,
And ghosts of sleep in yawning mists do rise,
The Tree of grandeur heights is quiet,
And to my distant abode I retreat,
The path of homage to natures Giant;
I am at peace in Temple Green.