The Center of Centers
And this is what would be said. A voice older than language, before vowels or consonants were dreamed, a voice of all that lived and even beyond, a song that stones could understand, that called the ocean home, and whispered the moon to sleep.
The call to creation from the void where no sound could live and yet all sound was born; a word faster than light because it is light's mother and the nursery of all color.
So powerful and deep, seemingly so distant. But, sit oh child of this voice, listen to this song of vibrations and know that your source is the Source and your center is the Center.
(c) Steve Howard
And this is what would be said. A voice older than language, before vowels or consonants were dreamed, a voice of all that lived and even beyond, a song that stones could understand, that called the ocean home, and whispered the moon to sleep.
The call to creation from the void where no sound could live and yet all sound was born; a word faster than light because it is light's mother and the nursery of all color.
So powerful and deep, seemingly so distant. But, sit oh child of this voice, listen to this song of vibrations and know that your source is the Source and your center is the Center.
(c) Steve Howard
