The Guide

Past the humming of swallows, the chirping of hummingbirds,

The singing of nightingales,

The soft rustle of autumnal leaves,

The first buds of spring,

The golden rays

Piercing the verdant canopy,

Harking back to a sylvan idyll

And the halcyon times of joy,

The trotting foxes,

The baying horses,

The galloping deer, the bounding rabbits,

The thumping badgers, the scurrying squirrels,

The beating of wave upon rock,

The maidens who wait by the shores,

Mothers for sons, daughters for fathers,

The celestial theme that fills them all,

The joyful hymns,

The exultant paeans,

The plangent threnodies,

It is the light that moves, nourishes,

Shows the path, to everything else.

Things fall by the wayside

To be picked up again,

To be held again,

To be led again.

 

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