Language of Light

The river doesn’t stop

on a humid afternoon — but I do.

Water and air are mingled, and

all the sounds I hear —

human, animal, elemental —

are thick with the substance of life

on this water planet.

It makes me glad —

this is much more than I had a moment ago,

driving down the road.

I hope that I shall always have

a river to stop beside,

to remind, more than the sea, that

I am on a journey into me,

that I do not and cannot belong to any creed,

that I’m a witness and a consort of truth —

so how can I believe?

Sundown low spills gold into the stream.

I just relax and get quiet, 

knowing what it means —

water is speaking in the language of light,

and if I listen just right

I get the proof —

I cannot hear

anything but truth.

I cannot hear anything

but truth.

I cannot hear anything but truth!

© Gerry Sackett, 2012

A river to stop beside; photo by Tony Russell