Deer
Whether by my doorstep or remote in forest, the deer always appears unexpectedly. Fleeting as a moonshadow, changing
course on a whim, it shows me the secret of shifting intent lies in a subtle bearing, a stance of gentleness poised on the raw edge
of risk.
As the eye is built by light, so the
quiet pool of deer vision, fashioned by moonray, is reflective perception, a viewing to traverse the twilight, to render orientation
through the thicket of shadow.
With the deer’s
adrenile vigilance, I listen acutely, my ear attunes to hidden matters, the softest turn of wind in foliage, the quiet step of stalking
paw. By its power I discern hidden movement within the voice of another, the subtle turn of intention, the muffled secret that
fills the silence.
Teach me, then, deer within, to listen to the gentle cadence of my heart, that I may orient my most ultimate passage though this incarnational forest.