I feel the skin of the drum
Taut with ageless anticipation
And walk my fingers along it
Making a sound like pattering rain,
Preparing the parched ground for growth.
I brandish the beating stick
Grasping it lightly, letting it dance,
Helping the wood to remember its roots.
Once it sprouted from the heart of the earth;
Now it will sing earth’s holistic hymn.
My wrist is quick, like a snake’s tongue,
Flashing in and out, up and down,
Sinking into rhythm and running free,
Like a wild horse or a water fall,
Hoof-beats thunder and rapids rush
An intuition takes command,
Borne from the Soul of the Universe –
Mystical Mathematics swirl
In harmonies unleashed.
Truth cries out in every beat
As energy pulses through earth
And life is broken from its shell.
Skin to wood and wood to skin,
Spiral song goes ever on…
It mirrors every story told,
A reflection of some deeper plain.
It forms a well-worn path,
The constancy a comfort.
Then hear the click of wood on wood –
The common elements are wed!
A passion punctuates the lay
With changing force that brings new life
I rest my head against the frame,
A circle, like eternity.
Oak wisdom vibrates off its curves,
Long since imbued by Ancient Magic
And Magic’s Source, Who Is What Is
Though distance stretches long,
Nearness hums within…
Some echo of the ocean waves,
Of lion’s heart, of humming bird’s wings,
The essence of the surge of life,
Each spark of flame and drop of blood,
So strong it flows, the pulsing tide…
And yet, hear now:
The gentle beat of Mother’s Love,
The cradle of life’s dawn
So intimate a lullaby,
So magical a drum
Encapsulates the meaning
Of all that Is and Is to Come