The Seeker’s Pendulum Dowsing

The Seeker’s Pendulum Dowsing

The pendulum sways above the map,

A small bright stone upon a chain,

It turns and moves with quiet will,

Its rhythm slow, its meaning deep.

I ask my question, breathe it soft,

Not aloud, but through the heart,

And watch the silver thread respond,

Each motion born of unseen thought.

It circles left, it circles right,

It pauses when the truth draws near,

Each sway a voice from the silent field,

Each stop a whisper of what is real.

It does not guess or bend for wish,

It flows like a stream of inner mind,

Connecting what I feel and seek,

To what the world already knows.

I’ve learned to trust the smallest signs,

The tremor of truth in a gentle swing,

For answers live within the calm,

And rise when questions learn to rest.

I fold the map, the pendulum stills,

Yet I feel its rhythm in my pulse,

The search continues through my days,

A river that knows where it runs.