the sound of the air
they fly in tune with the magic
that holds the heart
of Mother Earths nurturing prayer
golden angels call at morn
the beloved one to be reborn
light beams radiate and transform
sleepers awake to a new formless form
that is from the soul that can soar
with wings on high
but still recognize this life
and spirit body to which it resides
and while the angels watch
we guard our weary hearts
longing so to fly
with the winged ones across the sky
and so we find a perch
a nest of sacred words
to build a resting place
that is where we find a safe place
to issue forth a call
to those who listen
to the ringing of ancient bells
and we interpret what it tells
into these limitated words
that seek to repeat the sound of air
and the invisible spirit
for with the language soul
whispers
all is well
all is well
all is well
