The Many and the One

WORDS Lt-Colonel Ian Gainsford

I walked through the memory of the world

along a forest path of green, deep green

awash with sounds of water, wind, tui, cicada

—the deep breath of whenua.

The forest’s tale was not one but many:

the tall tree, the winding vine,

the deep root and the shallow.

The rotting stump and green shoot

pushing through soft bark…

the long slow pull of time

and the steady drip of daylight passing.

Tread soft, the trees whisper.

Stand tall, the rocks reply.

Close your eyes, the deep green murmurs.

Open your heart, the sunlight cries.

I sit on green grass beneath the wide blue sky.

Perhaps this tale is not many but one

bound together by the Creator’s voice,

the memory of sky, rock, water, the breath of life

and a deep green grace.

Perhaps it is the many and the one,

or neither, all at the same time.

Perhaps God is bigger than my dreams

deeper than the memory of the world,

familiar as the path we know

yet different from the old ways,

and perhaps we must be too.