The Calling
It’s taken many years of falling
To finally recognize my calling:
Through miles and miles of endless seeking
All the while truth kept retreating.
Just out of reach, fading from sight
Like dew in the morning
At the break of light…
Rising imperceptibly, tangibly unreal,
It’s taken years of toil and tears
For my calling to reveal.
Itself, in a many splendored way like
Butterflies from moths…
Beauty is as beauty does
Without counting what it’s lost.
Down in the tunnel of yesterdays
Countless minutes, hours, years...
Hearing the call, after all
Is music to my mortal ears.
That came it seems as love in dreams
Without warning or affair:
The calling was like falling
Freely through thin air.
Until I hit reality and summer struck me cold:
It’s been a long, long lonely winter
And I’m no longer feeling old.
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