DANCING UPON the HILL

Father, You have gifted me
with the wondrous spark of life,
and I have sheltered it.

I have tucked it in
away from the wind and rain,
and kept it quiet and still
where danger lurked.

Safety and security
became the sentinels
watching the heart's door
keeping out the unknown.

But today I have chosen to be free,
to release the sentinels,
throw back the windows of my heart
and cross every illusionary boundary.

I now face the risks,
look them in the eye and dare to let this divine spark
become in truth what it always was -
a flame, that by its burning, lives.

I am the flame, dancing upon the hill,
a holy beacon in the night,
cavorting with the wind, casting new shadows,
sparkling with elation, embracing the rain.

I flicker in the eyes of the Gypsies
who circle the impetuous glow
in head-back, arms-akimbo abandon,
laughing in the joy of now.

I release and let the leaping flame
burn away every fear and doubt,
and suddenly I know that I am the night
and the wind and the stars.

I am the searchers of the world
and the children with wondering eyes.
I am the trees and the mountains
and the stream that moves through all.

I am light and morning,
peace and love,
hope and joy,
wonder and elation.

I am brother to all things
and they are all
a part me
without walls.

In loving memory of Lance Porter Hopkins
July 20, 1975 - November 30, 1999
Ó Harold Hopkins, October 1999