Poem: Listen

ptown dock


Listen and you will hear the tide come in.
Each wave a bit closer, a bit more vocal.
You will hear the air in the sand bubble as the waves go out.
In the distance, you may hear the low rumble of a fishing boat.

Listen, and you will hear distant voices,
soft as morning.
You will hear your own breath,
your own thoughts, slowly separating from the thoughts of others
and the water slapping against the pylons of your own ruins.

Listen, and you will hear beyond the fog.
Another world, slowly revealed.
Strange magic, this listening,
bringing you ever closer to God, to love, to life
without moving.


One of the rarest things in life is a listener. Talkers are a dime a dozen, but listeners? They are magical.


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