The leaves speak, and I am alone with them.
They are the sons and daughters of the trees.
I came here for answers, for prayer.
I have a desperate need for solitude, yet the trees stand quietly, letting the breeze transmit their thoughts.
I listen, but end up thinking myself:
What the heart seeks is not complete
What the mind finds it cannot deny
What love exists must persist
What bitterness built is only guilt
What hope cries remains alive
What power given is easily rescinded
What is wrong is judged strong
What grace shown forever grows
What soul speaks will be listened to.
My thoughts paused. The breeze enclosed my ears.
All these creeds survive in today’s generation, as they have for thousands of generations. They emerge from human genes that never mutate. They show in every shape and form- from the ghetto to the mansions, the jungle to the grasslands, from the temples to the shrines, the schools to the mines.
The leaves don’t know them, neither does the land. The birds don’t sing them, neither does the dolphin or the chimp. They are of Him.