Echoes
In the sighing of the wind through the trees
Your Voice echoes.
In the nave of the church as the choir sings
Your Voice echoes.
It is in these places
That I hear You most clearly,
“Come, be One with me”
In the prayer and vision
Of the anchorite;
In the chants
Of ancient priests;
You sang.
Your Voice calls from my stereo
With the songs of Hildegard.
And the tones of Demby’s synthesizer.
Memories come
From when?
Of forest and hills
Streams and lakes
Of Churches, now broken,
That were chambers
For Your Voice.
In Serrie’s Stratos I see wide
plains,
And hear Your Voice
Embracing the stars.
Under the Canopy I sit with Arkenstone
And hear You call life into being.
I am tuneless,
Yet my soul sings
When I hear Your Voice.
But I have moved on
Are You still there?
Is it possible to hear You?
Will I lose You in the din of many voices?
As I navigate canyons of glass and steel
Your Voice echoes.
When I trod the maze of city streets
Your Voice echoes.
In these places, throbbing with life,
I listen closely and
I hear you softly,
“Come, be One with me”
I am tuneless,
Yet my soul sings
Because I hear Your Voice.