As the Sun Rises (1)


how is it then

that the crickets chirping

and the wind in the branches

or even the whisper of waters

are loud enough to pull me from you.


I sit and call from the mountains

yet the rustle of leaves

keeps me from hearing your voice

not because of your silence

but instead because of my preoccupation

with more earthly affairs.


so I cry out again

over the sound of my feet

softly crunching the ground beneath me

yearning to hear you speak

above even the other beautiful sounds.


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