The Song of Being Reborn

These are the patterns
of my days these
circular rings emanating
outward from you and
scaling the silence of
that small space I
keep sacrosanct and
commune with your
kind face your friendly fire.

Help me to speak as
I ought, to be
worthy, good and true,
not to waste my time
in mooning and so much
circumspection - life should be
free or not at all
our own - to live and be
all ourselves rinsed and clean

discovered in your sanctity
our solitude - these are
retreat days of learning and
looking within - I search
for my own song and know
you hold the notes the 
score the pitch and key
of all that is me - these
staves in which I see

and sing reborn in thee.

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