The breeze, the eagles,
without you, they drop backwards
or lose firm balance.
Like an old sailor
or a child and her first kite,
we praise your teachings.
In our own prison,
without you, we cannot sing
true songs of freedom.
You hold our faint words,
our stories of old sorrows
as we search for wings.
In the middle of the storm,
with you, we fly in stillness
as we chant and breathe.
Free from fear to fall,
completely silent, we drift,
we let it all be as it is.
In vast deep skies,
with you, our holy gift, our path,
we travel through the clouds
to where all is transparent
and free.
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