WHO SHALL I SAY IS CALLING?

Across the universe is an unspoken reverberation: Love me, love me, love me. Say you do.

It strums through the trembling of poppy stamen and through the unison of trees reaching toward the light. It resounds through craters and earthquakes, ocean tides and still waters.

Its rhythms are reborn through the pulsation within each individual mite of dust. Its melody is in solitons and sunsets, in the whole range of visible light, and in the heart of darkness out of which light is born.

It rumbles through thunder and rings in the ears of joggers, who run with no destination. It squeals through the laughter of children and its moan can be heard in the lonely ache of a psychopathic heart. It crackles through midnight fires and casts shadows where it’s blocked.

It can be tasted in cheddar cheese and in the salt of a sea breeze, or smelt in raw honey and in the sweat of the ones we cherish.

It’s in the poetry of hard rock lyrics and in the despair of the addicted. It can be heard in the clapping of an audience and felt in the gut of isolation. This call is here, within the cry of a new born child and here, in the last surrender of a dying breath.

It is the call of history, the call of today and the call of the future.

It is a silent longing that can be witnessed in your eyes, today, as they look back at you from the bathroom mirror.

Who is calling and who is listening to the call? Who is ready to surrender into the calling?