The Calling

In a city park
upon the grass I lay.
on inward breath,
sweet grass I smell,
sings through the air
an endless song...
a choir of cicadas.

But not the same
as my land of gold & green.

On sun-baked rocks
around & over,
or banks of coloured sand.
rivers move with slow intent
rage with wild joy...
surrounded by the forest fair

To take a breath,
in these fair lands...
where nature reigns supreme.
Is to take a step
upon the path,
and begin to heal within.

When the gates for me stand open,
when physically I pass away.
it's here,
in these fair lands, I'll rest...

that call me every day