“There was no looking for the right beginning,
no search for the perfect close, and no listener
but the player themselves beyond all listening,

so I felt in that modal harmony of stone and grass
and mountain sky and the clear view across
the blue lake below as if I stood alone and entire
with a world held in place, as if memory were true,
and horizons held their own unspoken promise,

that grief could be its own cure, and in the last held
moment before the music stopped and left
the mountain to itself, and the final un-final note
slurred into the raptured air, as if even the sharpest pain
could be a long way to somewhere after all,

and of all things, a broken, barely open,
but listening heart, the one to serve me best.”

~ David Whyte

Image by Helen Nelson Reed

Post thanks to Walk in Beauty