! ! The Stature Of Truth

Watch them closely. Your greater life depends on this. See their bodies, watch their faces, listen to their sound, which is now the sound that we all own. Now see your self, seeing them; watch your self, watching them; listen to your self, listening to yourself. This is the moment grace graces us. Our grace. This shelf-stacker with a battered face; this village lady with a homely build; this child, who, simply, sings as if that could not be more natural: see them; watch them; listen to the sound. See them in profile: nobility now shapes their face; this is what heroes are, heroes who await our call. They have surrendered to their self; was it we who called them? Are there times when truth itself is impatient of release; cannot wait for us to earn that? Perhaps just a few bars, as the song begins to take them over, sings, them; perhaps the climax of the song, when all we can do is wildly clap, applaud ourselves for what they’ve told us that we always knew: we too, heroes, heroines, waiting for the call to be ourselves: for a few bars, their stature is beyond measure; remind yourself, you saw it, watched them, listened: listened to the sound which says this, my sound, is the sound that can do anything. anything: now I make the world anew. For a few bars, they tell us this, this is who we are, every one of us; this is what talent’s given for; this, what we were made for; this is how great we are. This is the sound of truth singing the truth of truth itself; this is what grace can do. This is who we are.