Wednesday, December 18, 2024

As the Mid-December Sunset Drew a Perfect Shadow Of the Vase on the Bedroom Wall, I Heard That Sound

 

The soul is the universe’s ageless sound,

ever searching out for the musical part

some time ago, we used to call the heart,

testing and trying to plunk and so find out

 

whether it’s ready—live enough—to hear now

what the tone entails or implies and go to twine

into oneness’ radiance what, on hearing, it learned,

thus, bringing it all back like a gently minted verse

 

in rising to converge on the divine that gives a fanning

breath to what Beauty true illuminates—deep in us—

as her honest kin and kith—filling up the harmony.

 

The soul is the universe’s ageless sound—and if one

appears to imply with its ending, apparent cut, both loss

and love—the other plumbs the good one carries on inside.

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