Clouds drag their capes across a marble moon.
A fox vaults a neighbor's fence,
And I prepare for slumber's tune.
When I lay down I can give up
All the fortresses I built this day.
When I give up I can lay down
All the foolishness I put into play.
To be but a whirling dervish
For the Maker of us all.
This is the desire of the heart,
No matter how often the fall.
The river flows from its own source,
The salmon fights that flow to reach hers.
Man often rides from his source,
Like an equestrian wearing spurs.
But the soul is on a journey
To return like those salmon on the run,
And won't entertain resting
Until that race is won.
When my head is on the pillow
I align with the owl in the glen
And all the other beings
Who know their true origin.
And when I touch the silence
Of the clouds across the skies,
I awaken each tomorrow
With fresh devoted eyes.