A Song of the Beautiful Being

A Song of the Beautiful Being

When you hear a rustling in the air, listen again—there may be something there.

When you feel a warmth mysterious and lovely in the heart, there may be something there, something sent to you from a warm and lovely source.

When a joy unknown fills your being, and your soul goes out, out toward some loved mystery, you know not where, know that the mystery itself is reaching toward you with warm and loving, though invisible, arms.

There are tender colours here and exquisite forms and the eye gloats on beauty never seen upon the earth.

Oh, the joy of simple life—to be and to sing in your soul all day as the bird sings to its mate!

For you are singing to your mate whenever your soul sings.

Did you fancy it was only the springtime that thrilled you and moved you to listen to the rustling of wings?

The springtime of the heart is all time and the autumn may never come.

Listen! When the lark sings, he sings to you. When the waters sing, they sing to you.

And as your heart rejoices, there is always another heart somewhere that responds, and the soul of the listening heavens grows glad with the mother joy.

I am glad to be here, I am glad to be there. There is beauty wherever I go.

Can you guess the reason, children of earth?

Come out and play with me in the daisy fields of space. I will wait for you at the corner where the four winds meet.

You will not lose your way if you follow the gleam at the end of the garden of hope.

There is music beyond the roar of the earth as it swishes through space—

There is music in keys unknown to the duller ears of the earth and harmonies whose chords are souls attuned to each other.

Listen , do you hear them?

Oh; the ears are made for hearing, and the eyes are made for seeing, and the heart is made for loving!

The hours go by and leave no mark,  and the years are as sylphs that dance on the air and leave no footprints, and the centuries march solemn and slow.

But we smile, for joy is also in the solemn tread of the centuries.

Joy, joy everywhere. It is for you and for me, and for you as much as for me.

Will you meet me out where the four winds meet?