The wood drips the cloud back to soggy earth,
Sheltered now from the winds' worst excess,
We gather in the cloisters of the Beeches,
We find eachother in search of God,
Our thoughts and conversations are bathed in music made of moving trees,
They deceive with stillness of solid trunks bound tight to soil's embrace,
Roots sunk deep into the still hillside, tether dancing tops of wind caught boughs and swaying limbs,
Like those that tread beneath, they are beings of complexity,
They are made in the still quiet of earthy holdfasts and the ever-changing dance of sky flung wheather,
This wood seems tamed, cleaned, cleared, held open by the toil of man and yet, wild the wood is,
Each tree a world unto itself and joined together a cacophony of life,
In the music of the movement of the trees,
God tells us of a wildness tethered now to Love,
Stillness sets the stage for dancing in the sky,
Now together, tethered souls in wildness sing.
The murmour rises roaring and mingles in with dreams of peace and praying tounges,
Stilled bodies hold the wildness of life and seek that holding Love.
Listening to - Illuminate - Etherwood