I Play the Harp

I play the harp; It understands what's in my hands; And what's in me my hands set free: Delicate joy for simply being, Delicate love for all I'm seeing: Quiet hills that roll out far To where all shimm'ring waters are; Where, up with sun, fulfilling dawn, Arising birds flash on and on; Where laughter, silent, shouts up leaves, Glist'ning, list'ning To the harp-like breeze. For I am a wind that is never still, Unbeatable rush of a trembling trill, And through soft hands, quick fingers, light, I ripple the message "All is right". For all _is_ right in the center---me, When I'm free to be what I choose to be: A teller of tales that weave a spell In the heart and mind of who listens well; A spell of innocence void of fears, A spell of trust that fakes no tears, A spell of the awe of my childhood's flight When Lo! I saw the perfect sight! A face reflecting mine, brand new, A mindful soul connecting through, A being glad To spell in me And weave one life of integrity. Integrity, Adventure, Flight, Joined in joy in our marriage rite. And that is why, seeing eye to eye, I play the harp. It understands what's in my hands.