Poem by Dan Stone
Which way now?
What’s next?
I’m sure I’ve heard.
I’m sure I know.
Just not out loud yet.
This light behind
me isn’t real.
No one else’s vision
painted on a wall
can lead, prevail.
No one else’s song
can sing exactly how I feel.
I’ve learned although
it may be quiet in a crowd,
my truth won’t
hush for long.
Guidance pulsing
in my chest, flashing
in my searching eyes
won’t fail.
My trusted friends
will guard my path
knowing what I need.
They hear my heart
beat in my hand
They’re seers who get
that even though
I just stand here
where I am,
even though I’m still,
like a willing post, a tree,
my intuition calls,
whispers to my will
like the omniscient wind.
My wisdom, power,
like my blood, my breath,
my storming fears,
all move at
the appointed hour,
all flow right here,
all go where
what will be, will be
what I will make.
Like everything
that waits for me.
Which way now?
What’s next?
I’m sure I’ve heard.
I’m sure I know.
Just not out loud yet.
This light behind
me isn’t real.
No one else’s vision
painted on a wall
can lead, prevail.
No one else’s song
can sing exactly how I feel.
I’ve learned although
it may be quiet in a crowd,
my truth won’t
hush for long.
Guidance pulsing
in my chest, flashing
in my searching eyes
won’t fail.
My trusted friends
will guard my path
knowing what I need.
They hear my heart
beat in my hand
They’re seers who get
that even though
I just stand here
where I am,
even though I’m still,
like a willing post, a tree,
my intuition calls,
whispers to my will
like the omniscient wind.
My wisdom, power,
like my blood, my breath,
my storming fears,
all move at
the appointed hour,
all flow right here,
all go where
what will be, will be
what I will make.
Like everything
that waits for me.