When David played the lute and sang it did not matter that he himself could not hear.
The song inside him was not meant for him, but for those that came before.
And those that would come after.
For the Saints and the almost Saints.
For those that are not meant for this world alone.
For those of us that struggle.
Success comes to those that do not require it.
You taught me to read the stars and own the stones.
To welcome the moon and love the earth.
When we step on a stone be grateful for the pain.
To know that the animals we fear are part of us.
To love the dripping taste of orange fruit.
To cry and sing in old grave yards.
To read the poems at the gravesides of those who have gone before.
To embrace old age with courage.
To surrender and yield to the earth and make it home.