Bathing in the morning Sun I sit, Wandering in the muses of masters who stood before, Their dream now mine, Their prose running through my veins, I bow to the gods of words before me. Though not sure of myself, I hear their song rising in the distance, And I know they know, So whilst I bargain for a seat at Nature's table, All I need to do is hear the geese sing. For the geese know more than I, Awakening to a purpose that pours from their within, Taking to flight with the Divine gifts of their birth, Truth to a soul that guides them to wherever they may go, They know, the geese, they always know.
