The Tempest, written beneath a beech

I am the tempest
I am the shaken tree.
I am the echo of the wind

What is the wind?
What shakes in its passing?
Where does it begin or end?

I don’t know …
We all know everything
There is nothing to be learnt


I am your lover
I am shaken by passion
I am a shadow you once pursued

What is love –
An arousal of feeling
Or something without beginning or end?

If love is like wind
Then its passionate shaking
Knocks all our seeds to earth


I am God
Yet not I alone
God is all – yet wholly other

And there’s more …
I am compassion’s hand
I can be everything s/he is




Written during a storm at the Big Green Gathering 1viii2003

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