Come walk with me in darkening glade
As whispering shadows sing us soft songs
Nightbirds whistle Sol to sleep
As Luna's pale glow rises high
Or visit with me at the seashore
Where tossing waves surge and never seek rest
Crabs scurry from wet to dry
As tidal sweep changes their world
Transitionals are magic places
Look deep inside with your own inner eye
Listen to songs in your heart
Unseen fingers touch in the dark
Find your private place, seek your own soul
Speak to me without using spoken words
Take time to sense mystic ties
Let our souls transition as one
by Jim Fleming
June, 1997
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