The Birdsong

The Birdsong

There is a birdsong
That greets the first faint light of day
And my heart in concert sings
Yet in Silence
Hushed by Wonder
At the Mystery and Marvel
of Wakefulness

As an orange hue brightens
The Eastern Sky, while
A blast from a distant train
Reminds me that there is much
Ado about, and the world rustles
To keep its appointed times.

There is a Sacred Word
That sings within my heart
Much fainter than the Silence
Beneath the Birdsong
And it makes my lips
Curl up into a smile.

When, in a flash,
There is the memory
Of those many loves
That make my life
The joy that broadens
My Smile into a Tear.

The Sacred Word
Fainter still
Now Sings with all
Creation
As the stars sleep
And the sun rises
Round upon Round

Good morning
To the Mystery and the Marvel
Of the Sacred Word
Which makes No sound
But the Trumpet of
The Cockcrow
Clear as a Chapel Bell

But Silent Still
In my heart is known
And sings the Sacred word
Yearning to be known in
Every Human Heart

The Sacred Silent Word of Love.