Bound

Their inward rivers have surged too

strong for this familiar dale, their

currents coursing outward to broader

valleys and farther seas.

Being is an empty absolute, for now is

to do, to task, to venture on the

who they will become. We send them

wrapped in prayers with songlines

from our brighter dreams. We

fly our flags unfurled and

keep our fears to burn in our own

fires. Though breaking hard

on grief we wait as they ascend the

mountain ‘lone to drink from

ancient headwaters and quest along the

sacred, dangerous places.

God is asking much of us, so

we summon our faith with

hope they learn to live alongside the

wolf we call this beautiful world.

Only then will they draw their

sustenance from the vernal spring that

flows of both the minerals and the

spirits, the earth and the sky.

That is what this work of love is for.

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