My sheep hear my voice.
I know them, and they follow me.
Sitting by the pond
it sounds like I don’t hear anything but birds and breeze.
And the little brook. Like kids whispering.
The water flows into the pond,
and on into the sea.
What I hear flows through me,
water in the pond, flowing through my blood,
I hear it inside me.
It knows me.
I hear the ocean answering.
I know this little stream, the word of God, like blood.
I hear it within. I follow it,
as water rippling through rocks,
as love rivering through the world,
following the voice of the earth,
not an effort but a flowing.
This flow from cloud to spring to river to sea to cloud again
the right path on which the shepherd leads me.
This is the still water
that is also the spring of living water gushing up to eternal life.
In stillness I hear it gushing,
And I follow the voice of the flowing
and enter into the deep water.
And it bears me into the ocean of grace.
I hear birds, and the mouth of the breeze.