this listening.

Peeling away thin layers to discover a fruitful bed of questions under my skin seems to be an inclination that I have. I am not really seeking answers, just the next big question. I have discovered listening. I listen to the world around me a lot. I listen to architecture, forming patterns that are rythmically similar to traditional African drum sequences, I listen to parents when I over hear them talking to their children in public, because I know there is a child somewhere inside of me that never heard what they are saying, and that there is a reason why I am hearing them at that moment, I listen to loving exchanges and try to integrate them into my internal vernacular, I listen to wind and how it gusts through my molecular self, I listen to ( ), anything that I can hear, tangible and implied. I am now listening to something else, maybe again. I know that I have heard this voice before, a long time ago, and I know that I have heard it in all of the aforementioned instances, but it is much louder now. Much more personally located. This voice lifts me. I know that I can trust this listening because I have been guided in ways that have truly opened me. I accept the love that I have in my life. I accept the depth and pace at which I move, and everything that I hear supports this growth. This voice does not have a name, or particular qualities. I do not seek to define it, just to be with it.
I want to listen more.