The old voice summons
in a chorus of redwings.
I walk out beyond the bulwark
where I am known
not by names
but by substance.
There is a spirit in the
world that is causing me to see my
darker iniquities.
A better prayer would
often be Dear Lord, forgive me for
what I once believed.
Silence now. Silence is the
old voice.
Field Notes on Faith and the First World
Exploring depths previously unsounded in oneself, as best one may.
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Supporting ways of being that are life-giving and sustainable for people, communities and the planet.
Believes everyone has a story to tell.
James Scott Smith 
Keep writing so I can keep reading the world through your lens. Selfish, maybe. But I’m okay with that.
🙂
Silence = the absence of man made chatter and man made machines . Which leaves only the steady hum of all creation ,reverberating from soul to soul , endlessly connecting all things named and unnamed from the time of no beginnings until the time of no end . I love reading your poems , they entice me to reflect .