Thomas Golding - Threshold

THRESHOLD

There is a sound that goes before
The seeker in the hills
An unheard peal of bells
From Morning Glory flowers
Echoes fallen from the dawn
Which came on waveless sea

Left or right
Down or up
Elusive whispers in the grass
Of many ways to test
For one.

Willow wisp of mind’s desire
Where are you now?
Within?
Without?
The SOURCE still calls.

Thomas Golding

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/threshold-4/