Let us wait, let us listen.
When we gather, we gather as though for the last time.
Who knows when the hearth will glow with welcoming fire, and when it might expire? We gather as we always have. We gather safe, we gather warm.
What will it be tonight?
Tonight, it will be our story.
The one with a tree, the one with a tiger, and the small bird who knows.
The rest is smoke—but where’s the fire?
Here, here, gather close.
Here is the song and here is the story, we cannot pry each from each.
Take both, we offer them lightly.
Tonight, what will it be?
This story that holds all stories, this song that carries all songs.
How abundant are we, shifting, unfurling, gathering every future that could be?
How do we grow but slowly?
Where do we turn to if not toward the light?
Here the darkness, here the sight—bound together, like song and story.
How to live but lightly?
How to learn but gently?
All the while journeying through life after life after life.
Gather, gather, around the fire, listen, listen.
Breathe.