Meditation for this Sunday

Until Then

[In Flash so it takes time to load but is well worth it.]

Homeward Bound

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,

When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.

When the summer's ceased its gleaming,

When the corn is past its prime,

When adventure's lost its meaning,

I'll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.

Set me free to find my calling and I'll return to you somehow.

If you find it's me you're missing, if you're hoping I'll return.

To your thoughts I'll soon be list'ning, and in the road I'll stop and turn.

Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.

And the path I'll be retracing when I'm homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.

Set me free to find my calling and I'll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,

When the sparrows stop their singing,

I'll be homeward bound again.

Words and music by Marta Keen.

Postscript:

This post was taken in toto from The American Digest. It's not cool to just lift an entire post. My Bad.

I decided to break the rule this one time. I could neither add or redact anything from this post without reducing its value. So I just copied it. I suspect, or at least hope, that Vanderleun wouldn't mind too much.