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I Can Teach You How To Fly
When you perch on the sunset, wishing to paint
The drifting clouds in their infinite grace
Is the art not already
In their reflection:
The awe in your face?
And when the air is thick with darkness
In the hours before dawn
From where do the fireflies
Get their glow
To flicker out
And flicker on?
How can God be in an infant?
And a man inside his heart?
Why do years pass in the moment
When brothers part?
Have you tasted the night
When it’s freshly sliced
By a silent, white
Moonbeam?
Do you realize that your visions are real
And the days are all a dream?
Do you weep when the droplets of joy
Trickle from your hand?
Can you leap into the chilly lake
To let the boat sail on, unmanned?
Can you read the scripture in the sand?
And say a prayer before the seas?
Can you forget you have a body
And flutter in the breeze?
Do you need to close your shining eyes
To finally begin to breathe?
Will you listen to the Raven
When he whispers the word
‘Believe’?
So, you silver-eyed poetess
You daughter of the stars
You reacher for the horizon
You dreamer from afar
The answers are written inside you
And as the mute bird, suddenly, sings
When you read the letters
On your soul
You will come across your wings
And between loving
And hoping
And creating and dying
And knowing
And guessing
And laughing and crying
You will discover
That you’re already
Flying
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This article has 36 comments.
May the time be in the near future.
How beautiful, from 'The Prophet', I dare to presume? Have you read his "Thoughts and Meditations"?
I felt like I could do anything when I was in the forest, camping this weekend. I felt like I could fly, speak to the earth more clearly than usual, even breathe a breath that would cause numerous flies to abstain from landing on me. The same forest where I heard you call.
It just isn't the same here, in civilization. My heart was quenched, but I am afraid that it is already growing thirsty again. I suppose that's just the way with life.
Sounds lovely, dear. I will keep these stained-glass eyes of mine on the glittering prospect of the coming summer night. Fireflies will twinkle overhead, pretending to be constellations, and the spirits will whisper our names.
Of course you shall! And whatever you do, if you are at One with the great white orb, then you shall meet in the night sky all the others who are doing the same (just like Gibran says will happen with true prayer).
So long as it's in the Summer and on the full moon. Perhaps we will construct delicate flower crowns and dance in the moonlight to Leonard Cohen too.
The full moon is on the thirteenth this month. I wonder if I shall do anything?
Seriously?!? Is it possible that you can write a peom I don't like?
I liked the part about the art on ur face, the visions and dreams, and finding your wings :D
What a happy revelation!
Chance encounters, chance encounters. "They are what keep us thinking of the unusual, and in touch with what is outside of the imprisonment of our daily lives." A wise person said that, I think. ;)
One can find a great many things in books, including those that are already in one's own heart.
It felt wonderful, and I realized later that I've been flying ever since I was born, just not in the way I thought I would. But perhaps that is enough for now :)
I wish I could see that gladness too, I can only be grateful for teenink, and the chance encounters it allows me.
I will; I am wondering if maybe I will find it in a book eventually, I don't know why. It stays in my heart at least; I can feel it. I am glad that truth is not complete in one single religion. (That's how I feel, at least.)
I wish you could see the gladness spread across my birdlike features and drop from my slowly blinking eyes. How did it feel, to fly?
It sounds like a beautiful dream. I have always held that the truest of dreams and of ideas will always return; so that nothing is permanantly forgotten. Do tell me if you remember.
I am quite happy that the gift is so well received; it was a joy to create and to hand over.
Ooh, thanks very much.
I had told Stargirl that I would write her a poem about 'how to go about finding her wings' a while ago, so I was referring to her in the author's comment box. And I'd be delighted to write you one, if you'd give me a subject to go on! :)
I flew last night; I also dreamed an idea; something of butterflies and God's love. I awoke sad that the idea itself was forgotten, but also with the hope that someday I can remember or find it again.
You know so much of what is in my heart. The gift is recieved with thirst, and treasured with joy and delight. I eagerly await the rose and gold sunrise of the day when my truest dreams become my reality.
I hope, also, that she (as well as other readers) know that only by asking the right questions can the deepest of answers be found.
"This I heard from the butterflies
As they argued with the bees.
This I heard from a fallen leaf
As it danced upon the breeze."
May each of you find what your hearts are seeking.