Eyes of the Forest

Stephen W Emerick 

They say the blind are sighted

In ways we cannot see;

Perhaps the eyes of the forest

Are just the same as these.

Where vision is held in presence

As contours are held by touch;

Where glen and glade in-gather,

For miracles are made from such!

Paths take a turn toward the inward;

What was outside resides within,

As all we sense around us

Joins in-scapes joyous hymns.

Blind and sighted intermingle

And all are sighted by need;

From every form of blindness,

Each finds its freedom indeed.

For there is found to be no partition

Between observer and observed;

Belief of separation in deep woods

Is found to be absurd

Spirit’s vision now reads by Braille

Of bark and bramble and brook,

And as we left the forest…

This is the lesson we took

It is in the closing of eyes

In wonder’s stance of awe,

That any kind of blindness

Is healed by what we saw

In forested new-found vision,

There is no need for seeing…

A new world is now upon us,

For this is the season of Being