The Voice...
Contributed by Nicholas Begich Sr.
The voice, the deep tone of it, the vibration in it,
Carries the moment into form in communion.
Meeting another as the eyes fix upon the eyes of the other,
The gaze into the soul begins and a connection,
Forms into a cord, a flow, the way, a merging.
Into it you go, into the void that is not that,
More than empty, in fact full, rich and deep.
The voice, the deep tone of it, the vibration of it,
It pulls you into the thread of awareness.
It is the awareness, the tone of it carries,
A form that has no form in it.
Still there the emotion of it is present,
Delivered into it the intention.
The coming together begins.
The voice, the deep tone of it, the vibration in it,
The gazing into the eyes of the other,
As the sound of soft words exchanged,
In a subtle light way of coming into each.
In that moment of seeing and connecting,
The breathing moves to synchronize.
The mind flows into a union in that moment.
The voice, the deep tone of it, the vibration in it,
It communicates more than the words,
Shifting more than intention, and that unseen within.
Then the filter it hits, of another, what comes through?
The vibration, the emotion, the tone within the tone,
This is what rings in us, that speaks to us,
That changes us into seekers, who are arriving.
November Winds
Contributed by Nan Potts
Stark trees brace
Against a blow,
Twist and bowing
Sway, to and fro.
With each flex
Of dueling strain,
Resilience shown
Against the rain.
With each gust,
Will increase,
Until the wind yields
And ceases.
Or, perhaps
They will succumb
And to a force
Be overcome.
Broken branch
Or torso snapped,
Hurt or shattered,
Their life is zapped.
‘Til, in spring,
Life starts anew.
Fresh shoots appear
Where a tree once grew.
Drained air blows
Gentle breezes/
Trees now rimed
With late fall freezes.
Winter nips
On the heels of fall,
November winds
Buffer its gall.
Time to don
On boots and coats,
To shelter one from
Frosty notes.
