The Calling

I don't choose this for popularity. I get no personal kick Out of power. I am not a social stigma. I am not a notch on a belt. I am not "cool". I paint, each day, The winds, The driving rains, the freezing snows, The heat of the sun, the cool of the night, Each twinkling star, each trickling stream, Every inch of your flesh, Every bone in your body, Every strand of your hair: I am the voice of your dreams And the tool Of Divinity. I am the passive reflex That forces breath. I am not trying to be, Nor am I forcing becoming. It just happens, or, More often than not, It doesn't. It is not concious Nor conceived, But steeped And stripped and whittled And, In many ways, Burned down to it's core essence. We are not all chosen for every path. There are a thousand paths to walk On this earth, And even more With every life we live, But we can only walk one at a time. We cannot be the master of all trades, Instead we must be masters of ourselves And not tyrants for others. We must listen to the voices And trust their words. We must look to our elders, To our ancestors And respect them for the paths they have walked, For they were not ours And yet they lend so much To our experiences. But: Do not mock my age Or take liberties with my youth. I am much older now Than you will ever be. I must be still and silent And listen for the voice, Seek instrucion In the running stream, The flights of birds, In smoke and steam and cloud, I must find direction In every small omen And heed every sign Along the way. I make choices not for myself But for the world around me. I did not choose this path But was chosen for it By rote, perhaps, Or simply by being born Beneath the right stars.I don't think a lot of people will understand this one and I don't expect them to, but I felt it needed to be posted to get a few things off my chest. Written March 10th, 2002 © on Mar 09 2002 04:18 PM PST   18 • 0 • 13