| Pine needles pray, nestling down. Their scent rises. The Forest breathes and exhales prayer. Its wind moves into fissures. Granite takes it in and firmly issues a prayer to a mushroom lifted by its bold touch and sends it down to the juicy soil-cracked seeds whose prayer makes the Forest tingle down into the roots of the Great Oak embracing them all and touching the Great River of Light only those who pray can enter. |
Join in praying now. Take it in. Ingest the prayers of the land. Unutterable language enters our nose invisible waves open our pores. The senses begin to pray. All that we learned hushed by the longing of the Forest. The prayer of the primal lover rises no longer only human. |