At the touch of wind, friction of fingers
Vibration of cords, beat of thump
The abstract gathers, flowing, flying
Liquefied into a wetting cascade
Or thinned into a wrapping air
Oh, you are formless, my beauty
You are proof that beauty lies
Within us, in spite of us
Mingling with air, water and soul
An atom clings to another
You advance in loud silence
Note a note dropped..
All around I see
The traverse of beauty
Embracing every being on the way
And when it reaches the tympanum
They call it music, they hear
They only hear. Only here!
No comments:
Post a Comment