I Hear the Voice

I hear the voice

In which nature calls to me.

I hum along

With the tune it sings

I read the poem

Which it has written to me –

--to me alone…

So many voices,

Coming together,

Sounding as one.

The collaborative effort


Is at work.

I am searching…

Searching for morning…

The birth of a new day.


…but what am I?

To be accepted,

Must I conform

To a label—

--Merely a word?

Time flows forever on,

And on…

Never letting go,

Never catching up,

Always counting toward THE END

Of every endless day.

I catch glimpses of

Reds, Oranges and Yellows.


Blowing in the breeze.

This is what is real.

(Not those fake,

pasted on expressions

given to you by your

ignorant "peers.")

This is tangible, concrete…


Oh, what you can see,

When you open your eyes,When you finally accept

that You are not

The Center

Of the Universe.