Sunday, November 16, 2008

There are harmonies
between Your breaths
when You speak,
Your words,
flutter around the room
and fall like ashes to the floor;
the wind (Your ancient breath)
carries them to souls hidden
behind these walls.

The stones may engulf You but
Your music still resounds
in the bark of the tree,
under the rushing brook,
in the multifaceted wings of a butterfly,
a lover,
Your soul,
I still hear
the echo.

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