On the blank page we have come,
to be undone.
And so we sit in silence-
unable to say much of anything
that we haven’t already heard before,
only to find that we must say again,
that which was spoken to us.
And, that which reverberated through us-
deafening to the mind,
but dancing music to the heart…
and a symphony to the soul.
Dance my love,
to the death of that which lived
and to the birth of that which lived-
first…and always,
in you.
Can you hear it now?
Of course you can,
but no longer that dull hum in the back of your life-
Now, it’s the haunting tune
come foward,
distinctively yours, but not you,
merely the production of the instrument you call, Me.
And yet, nowhere near
the song of I Am.

  1. #1 by SalvaVenia on May 1, 2014 - 3:43 pm

    This is positively beautiful and rather mystical as well. You have a knack with words and also the melody of a text.

    But, most important, the reader get’s the impression of someone, who is a very experienced and exact observer; not only transcending his own heartstrings and complexities, but touching the audience and permit a recognition of oneself. Chapeau!

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