Echos of the One I have learned more from the shine in a dewdrop on the petal of a wildflower than from man and all his theories his grasping after power I have read more in the falling leaves That tumble, wilt, and bear new life Than ever in the pages of man scratched in haste and full of strife I have listened in the cool night's breath To symphonies more grand Than orchestras assembled fair For the feeble notes of man But through the words and wood and paint though cracked and frail they be I see with trembling fingers a trace of eternity We frame with fallen hands the echo of the One we reach to catch in song and stone the Heart of our True Home And though it's but an icon a shadow before the sun I'll write and shape and sing as well my echos of the One