my flutes

my flutes are quiet now
filled with dream
with songs
sung
to moonlight children
in deep ancestral
america

they

live
only in the
ceder air
of
their song

they wait

these
messengers
of soul

to sing once more

my flutes ring in
images
from the deep
rooted
earth
and
from the magnetic
impossibilty of OM

my flutes sing
prayer
into their silence

waiting

patient

eternal


my flutes

sentinals of soul

breath as i breath
with
melody deep
filled
with longing
with loss
and
the
knowing that
this shall pass
this struggle will
lose its way
melt into
eternities grace

the song of my
flutes

sing
always
of
soon to come
soon to go
soon to be known

life holds their melodies
like clear water
on the stale parched
lips of sorrow
in the solitary tear
of lonliness
in the dry musts of
faiths dissapointment

sacred song
is
woven into
the joy of birth
the wagging tail of friends
the purring
ease of
comfort
the tigers eye of passion
into the solitary birth
of prayer

my flutes
hold secret

congerings

spells

ancient magic

harboring vast soul
deep chant

posessing nothing
holding
all

my flutes stand in a bamboo
chalice

on the floor
in my room

embracing my waiting
meditation