What does the waterfall ask, 

in eternal echo cast through the trees?

What does it sing in words first foreign yet

distantly familiar to your place in the world?

Follow the whisper, 

the murmuring forest,

the twisted roots rippling towards source.

Wander where wood flowers into clearing

and brush river spilling crescendo 

deafening hush.

Come and stand here

where droplets strike skin -

such shivering delight!

tickling 

the child of your spirit into laughter pure

as the water from which it springs.

Know now, 

standing soaked in ancient verse,

how the waterfall simply asks that

which makes you question everything. 

How the stream which seemed solid 

suddenly splits shimmering diamonds 

shining through you!

splintering the motley mirrors of your life 

and revealing bare 

the jewelled simplicity of your being. 

And how the light of 

that unspoken truth could be reflected in

smiles of knowing shared between friends,

without wanting for a thought 

nor a word 

in the world. 

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