Monday, 30 August 2010


The wood wind brings a phrase to me
And the hairs on my arms bristle
And stand as straight as trees,

And music weaves over my pimpleing skin,
That rises to receive the news and
Sings upon my limbs a simple tune;

Transmitting it to finger tips
Which flicker in anticipation of
Laying down the sound across your face,

And as the trace of nature’s song
Is touted by my touch along the life
Lines of your body we are synchronised

To time’s old signature which drums
To the accompaniment of hearts
And minds and spirit’s lyrics;

Mouthed and grounded to the
Melody of memories contained
Within the framework of our ancestry

That once ran and danced around
The world in harmony with calmness
And calamity and managed both;

Betrothed to wood and stone
And known by all before the storm
Of evolution muted most of it.

No comments:

Post a Comment