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

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