Come Sit With Us On The Comfy Chair.

Bleached bones of dying trees dance towards waters edge,
Swaying gently on the wind, their motion mimics his own.
Dropping noise, hurry and chaos, the city falls away
From him like leaves in a whipping storm.

I come to the mountain to find my lost soul.
Looking fruitlessly in earth, water and air the path leads only to fire.
Kneeling 'ore the embers, smoke weaving fingers through my hair.
Tears blur my sight, but not my vision as I read the glowing coals.

There! Just there, see the embers glowing along a sinuous path?
Where do they lead? Past the point of the long nurtured wound.
To the place where love runs hot, where truth drips like melting snow
To a place of wellness, a place of wholeness -here I find my soul.

Done. Complete. Full. Fool, the journey has only just begun in earnest,
To travel well, thoughts of ending can never be.
To travel best, is to journey with one who has found her soul.
She was easy to find, only the sun from her soul could fill mine.

So, come sit with us on the comfy chair,
Brush from the earth the stick and the stone.
Let the smoke of the fire sweep off the world weight.
Come, sit with us in the circle as we join together watching our prayers rise.

Sit with us as we join our heartbeats to the heart of the mother.
Come sit with us and watch the sparks dance to join the stars.
Come sit with us gently on the mother,
As we weave together our new found souls, held sweetly in the comfy chair.