This morning, as the bird sang through me,
i regretted my place inside a cube of drywall,
but rejoiced at my place in this world,
where birds move music through us
And songs resonate in the cavities
Of our cares
i realized that when i am tired of singing
it is because i am not letting myself be sung
and when i am feeling wronged
it is because i resist the waters of compassion
which in time will set me aright.
Life in this world lives through us.
Love in this world is a current;
Your sacred task
in this inch of Universe is
To let life live through you,
The Divine sing from beyond you
And reside within you.
To let yourself be an instrument,
You must, as thanks for being made,
Into the hands
Of the Maker of Music.
Your sacred tune will sing through you
And you will know the blessing
Known by all birds:
That the singer must be sung
In order for there
To be song.