Rob Austin McKeeIn Beauty May I Walk
In beauty may I walk, in moonlit meditation gifted of grassy earth and whispered on downy-blown breezes. My pulse, the unembellished cadence acknowledged by my every step (attentive and intent, long from heel to toe), and by my every breath (experienced singularly, belly in-swelling and out-sinking, as the slow, whole heave of tide in the moon’s wake, or the moon itself in mine). I am as the yet unborn starlight that will consummate the dawn.