Reaching out for the maker in awe-struck wonder
"How did this come to be," she asks
Lying on a well-worn quilt from decades past
Gently, slowly, the papaya fragranced breeze
Brushes over her skin as she drifts into blissful rest.
"I made them"
The still, steady voice answers her.
Was it a dream? No.
Her eyes are open to the nesting of birds;
dwellers of the ancient banyan tree,
this royal keeper of the forest, standing sentinel as her shelter.
Inky black shadows dance around her,
threatening any spark of faith.
"You are not of this world"
The voice calls again.
"Who are you, oh masked one?"
She whispers in the twilight.
Silence echoes all around her;
Was she dreaming?
"I've been searching for something,
Something bigger than me,"
She cries out, to the branches above her.
The summer moon peeks through the branches.
Black and white piano keys gleaming down at her from above.
Was this what she searched for?
A familiar rhythm to dance to?
"Play my song, oh beloved, pen my story"
The voice caresses her in loving tenderness,
"Put a voice to my music,
the music I placed in your heart."
A heavenly melody sweetly lingers in the air.
Am I dreaming?
"No. I am here.
Your protector, your shepherd, your prince of peace."
His arms engulf her completely.
The music crescendos.
Her heart is full for the first time
And she knows she is finally free.
"The journey homeward has begun.
With a melody and a voice
The pen is in your hand now, beloved.
Will you share my song?"
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