Wonderers

You’ll find out who you are, the prophet said and why you are and what the stars are for I mean, come on that’s pretty cool, right? Slay, is how my daughter put it As with most things I’ve heard the prophet say (excepting maybe some things about socks and certain other sundries) He wasn’t wrong not at all Still what wraps my heart in warmth tonight isn’t anything I’ve found out about who or why or what No, what I’m holding close is what I’ve found here with all of you in all of this Quiet Breathtaking breathgiving everchanging lifeaffirming and, at times - let’s be honest - terrifying Quiet Receiving me kneeling, into itself Wherever you go, I hear whispered over and over and over There I am Quiet Enfolding us in love each one of us — the clear-thinking deep-feeling understanding-seeking open-hearted caretaker and strength restorer, the aging (or so he insists) childlike winner and wonderer with kiss me face and bite me hands the biologist/physicist/astronomer/Tarzan who may have swung too close to the sun but nonetheless lived to tell the tales, the prophet whose nose led him home whose ears led him here, and whose heart leads him most of all, the clear eyed binoculared binaural oracle (there is no Tequila…) who is wiser than she knows, the chosen one whose home is the jungle and the one who chose him even so (or maybe even because, so it could be hers too, someday; who knows, isn’t that everyone’s great adventure?), and lastly (but only because they put themselves first) those two assholes drenched in rain and light All of us together expanding into the Quiet’s infinite, spacious fullness every holy song reverberating in the cathedral of the impossible