The silent parlance
There seems to be something sacred
in turning my ears around
long before my approach to the inner Path,
listening to the wind
upon the knolls and hollows
of my own interior landscape.
In all humility not traipsing about
learning from others how to live,
answering to others’ advice,
but heeding only and putting my sole faith
in that seemingly desultory inner voice,
the faint, unintelligible hints and suggestions
that come wafting across the moor,
often making little sense in the worldly scheme.
Having the great faith that You and I
shall one day converse until time’s end,
once I capture and master anew
the lost, silent parlance of my soul.
O child of God, to elude the self,
trek deeper and deeper into the interior.
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