point of view

"I charge you, O daughters... do not stir up nor awaken love until it pleases." -Song of Songs I am young and I sleep resting in my Father's arms a garden enclosed a lily among thorns the secrets of my heart and the song I sing are still unshared, still only for my King Awaken me slow oh, waken me softly be gentle in persuading if you're winning my heart if I call you beloved, will you call me sister first if I let you in, I know that it will hurt I'm scared and I am stubborn but I'm drawn to your gaze this could be a holy fire I want to know, can you be wise? Awaken me slow oh, waken me softly be gentle in persuading if you're winning my heart

silky cotton clouds chase after the elusive pink orange blush of the set sun as it slips down across the country this magnetic vortex unmarred except for a dust speck I mean passenger plan crowded with people merrily putting, cutting it's inharmonious way across this mystery I wonder, if I were the pilot would I be able to resist that mystical pull? Maybe I would fly along clueless too preoccupied with instruments and timetables to look up and see How is it anyway, we humans so often go putt-putting on our way ignoring the fingers of creation, all pointing upward ears too full of cacophony to hear the song of salvation too busy to stop and ask what really is all this longing for? What should I be chasing after?