Once there was everything, And in the rush to see it all, I missed the grace of simple things. A quiet truth held fast my hand, A gift I had not seen, And from the silent path I found, A world in which to be.
Love comes to those who listen, Not in a hurried, fleeting light, But in a gentle, warm conviction That makes the darkest path seem bright. It's not a faucet, not a switch, But a wild, patient song, A melody of souls in tune, Where every note belongs.
I have found my way to love, Not often, but with opened eyes. It's not hard to feel its call, But clear, honest hearts are wise. And when they're found, When love is born, The quiet years of searching, Of wanting, of waiting, Are more than worth the joy Of finding home.
-Ashley Goodale