Imagine if you will,
The sound of thunder on some distant hill.
With strength it comes,
Then quiet, peace, all is still.
See the rain fall steadily down,
The canopy of leaves tinkle as it comes to the ground.
There is no harshness in this view,
So natural is the noise -
that this is only essential sound.
Feel the wind as it brushes passed.
Where it goes it is never asked.
The feeling is of a gentle summer breeze.
Perhaps, it's true purpose is always masked.
Sense the waterfall in your mind.
Hidden in some fairy glen,
where like is like and kind is kind.
See it dance about playing with the light.
Know all these things are there -
And yet there is, still, more for us to find.
Copyright on all poems -J.Waite 1990
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