Reaching out now, this soft summer eve,

as tree frogs and crickets symphonize

to call up call storms, or peace, in the voice

of many in the heart of One,

I soon find the root connections of my being.

I become their tree; their bush and night.

And they, my doorway, senses, inspiration

become, to show us all the way.

The way of seers and prophets,

Shamans’ journeys into the realms

of ancestors and primordial relations,

as well the boundless source of all wisdom

that inspires our art as it informs our science:

And illumes all life.

The way of the healer today is perilous,

daunting, and without tree frogs and crickets

can become unbearable sorrow,

seeming without end, point, or direction.

What ever is traced has no root connection,

and is all artifact, contrivance, lies

until the cricket sings, tree frogs throb,

and my ear and heart are God’s.

Then darkness is banished from eternal night.