I know you’ve heard it
all the days of your life.
A voice,
quietly calling.
A song, for your ears alone.
Over and over again, it has called your name,
pulled you like the moon
calls home the tide.
It has drawn you to the quiet places,
to green woods
and rushing rivers,
to holy mountains
and deep solitude.
Only in that silence,
can you hear
what it has to teach.
Like bird song
on the wind,
it whispers:
you are free
to leave behind
all that has become
too heavy for your heart.
I know you are scared to unclench your hands and finally let go.
You will lose much,
dear one,
maybe everything, on the way to your soul.
The caterpillar
knows the cocoon
means death,
the end of everything
it once was.
You must die
to every life not meant for you
if you want to birth
a butterfly.
Your wings await you
across the river
and through the trees,
to that far country
where the voice has always called you.
May you follow it,
wherever it may lead.
May you follow it, to the place where your soul belongs.
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