April 27, 2001

Close the weary eyes of your heart, my love.
Hear not the tired voices of your soul, my daughter
but listen to me
and
remember.

Remember you laid in the grass
long ago past
for moments, yea eternities
gazing at the clouds
as they danced in the heavens
changing their costumes before your eyes
and you strained your heart and soul
to glimpse behind them
and hear their secret love songs.
Your mother would finally call you back
breaking your concentration
but you knew you could return tomorrow
and learn the secret councils of the clouds
and you would be free.

Do you remember?

Remember how you laid in bed
but not asleep
as time stood still just for you
gazing at your ceiling
decoding the pattern
to learn the secret
while scenes of beautiful maidens
pursued by noble lovers
danced wildly on the edge of your heart
and you hoped that when sleep overtook you
the song of the secret would be in your
dreams.

Do you remember?

How long since you've returned to the giving tree, 
my daughter?
Have you given up on my timeless pursuit of you, 
my love?

Can you turn your back on your adult understanding
and hear the little girl
waiting patiently
in the corner of your heart
for such is the kingdom of God?
Look close at the tears in her eyes
for she has been alone and forgotten so long.
Speak to her gently.
Comfort her. Embrace her.
Ask her to tell you her heart.
Listen and Remember.

She'll speak in fragmented stories
as your daughters do
naming her children
dancing with her Lord
with excitement and passion
unrestrained
skipping and dancing and singing
with zeal and fervor
untamed.

You will try to put the fragments together
to form the full story.
You will ask her questions to this end
but she will only go so far
for she never completed the story, my daughter
as you've abandoned my wooing, my love.

Ask yourself:
Are you not thirsty for a drink of pure water?
Are you not longing for my kiss and embrace?
Forget the real which is false.
Forget the sensibility of age.
Remember your story, my little daughter
and believe again.
Take up her story, your story, and step outside.
Listen to the wind and I will call to you.
Follow me
for this is the adventure
of my pursuit of you.
I wait for you.
Come to me,
my love.

Forgotten Secrets
Copyright ©2001, Michael Todd Boyum. All rights reserved.