Still

In the absence of words

the mind still does its melodies

sometimes with attention,

sometimes not,

and images may rise to meet the tunes

In the absence of conscious thought

the breath of life can still entrance —

so many variations to its inrush,

so many swirls within the currents

of its outward flow

In the absence of direction

the heart’s impulse, still present,

guides the mind into the stillness

before the words —

the quiet spring,

the soft upwelling

of what most needs to be heard.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 19, 2013