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Tag: listening

The voice you hear

Published on June 4, 2005

The voice you hear is not my voice; lost in the sound of your own making,
these words were new-forged long before the human throat began to hum,
and then began to form the shapes of bringing-into-being charms.

Before the echo of that utter, in the silence between seconds
where the space of breath expands beyond time and being
these words lived aeons and grew old awaiting tongues to speak their names.

The voice you hear is not my voice; it is the sound that throbs beneath
a single raindrop’s spattering. It is your voice I hear;
and yet you have not mouth or tongue, nor one sigh’s force to use.

04 JUN 2005

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If no one listens

Published on May 10, 2005

If no one listens what’s the point of lying?
It takes less effort just to speak the truth;
and any action taken worth denying
will more than likely come to little use.

If no ones pays attention for the echo
that new velocity leaves in its wake,
what difference whether dios or diablo
who punishes us for such a small mistake?

If no one watches for the dawn with wonder,
what good another day just like before?
Perhaps we are indeed a cosmic blunder,
just parasites left stranded on this shore.

If no one listens, can the voice of reason
be blamed if it elects to remain mute?
When thinking independently is treason,
who will cry “Fire!” with no one left to shoot?

10 May 2005

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What is the Secret Song?

Published on April 20, 2005

What is secret song that the whole world
hums underneath its breath, too soft to hear
unless you sit in silence, in the dark
and listen as intently as you can?

And when you hear it once, why it is so
that its refrain eludes your memory’s grasp?
Does it vibrate on some harmonic scale
that with its very echo self-destructs?

The melody, so simple and so pure,
seems to be shifting constantly in flux
so that each phrase is new; no line repeats,
nor lends itself to rote and mindless chant.

The rhythm pulses static long enough
to catch your heartbeat’s diastolic thump,
but suddenly it swells in pregnant pause
to fill all time in but a moment’s breath.

I have heard music played beyond my ken,
so wild and free it stretched my sonic grasp
to breaking; and then all the pieces slipped
back to their assigned cells of time and space.

Long past that last note’s echo I will know
what symphony the universe conducts;
and in that gaping chasm, my small voice
awaits the cue to loose its single note.

What secret song is known to the whole world,
yet takes a lifetime’s listening to hear?
The sound of living, one breath at a time,
and finding sacred every sip of air.

20 APR 2005

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Om

Published on December 20, 2004

What is the sound that echoes in the ears
when all is silent and the earth, asleep,
leaves off its boisterous clamor and harangue,
its endless waves of wild, chaotic speech,
and in a mute and restful slumber dreams?

The world in such a chasm’s wake was born,
its roots entwined around a primal hush
that swallowed nothingness without a word
and cast itself out like a spider’s web
from shadow’s body into space and time.

The frequency at which that first hum sounds
destroys the fibers of its universe;
each phase an ending that begins again,
a great abyss which endlessly refills,
reverberating in ears not yet made.

Infinity is but a moment’s span
as worlds wink in and out like distant stars;
and time becomes an artificial guide,
a meaningless contrivance marking out
where one illusion borders on the next.

20 DEC 2004

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Thankfull

Published on November 23, 2004

There are so many little things
that make up life’s stretched years;
and pausing now, to list them,
I find my payments in arrears

for moments that have come and gone,
each adding to my store
of seeming insignificance
that whole, is so much more

than pieces, parts and bits of dust
drawn from the world’s extent
and left upon my doorstep, freely,
no charge evident.

The big gifts, they may thrill and make
their first few days so bright;
but soon, their glamour fades and dulls
like day will turn to night.

But little things, they will remain
beyond their seeming use,
bind fast together one’s whole life
and never let it loose.

So I am thankful for the small
and plain and unobscure;
For in the presence of such things
my faith in life is sure:

That every action, though unseen,
unnoticed by the throng
still makes a ripple in the pond
and sings, with its small song

That music humming underneath
the bustle of the world –
the little seed from which, in spring,
a flower may uncurl.

For these small things, and others too,
I thankful raise a toast;
And so remember, for a moment
just what matters most.

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A Meditation Haiku

Published on June 29, 2004

Take a slow breath.
Don’t hold it long; let it go.
See, there is more air.

Take a good, long look;
Don’t scan the scene too quickly.
See, there is so much.

Take a deep swallow.
Don’t rush it; chew the liquid.
See how full you get.

Take a pause; listen.
Don’t mind all the surface noise.
See, you can do it.

Now give it all back.
Of course you have to keep some;
so you’ve changed the world.

Take a short lesson:
Each moment is a treasure;
gold can’t buy one back.

Breathe, look, drink, listen.
Become part of the whole world.
See — you can’t help it.

29 JUN 2004

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Late May at Twilight

Published on May 27, 2004

The night is late arriving yet again;
and in the day that lingers past its time
it casts tentative shadows, brushed in hues
of lavender and faded rose and blue,

while twilight, holding back its unsure breath
as if it means to swell and burst its seams,
drops only hints its patience has an end
and seems shy and unwilling to intrude

upon the sun’s last monologue, intoned
in barely whispered wisps of light.
It lets the final words slip out, then fade,
as finally, the dark blue curtain falls.

Against this backdrop, gentle mauve and pink,
the distant stars appear like bits of thread;
there is a quiet rustle in the trees,
and suddenly, the cool of evening comes.

27 MAY 2004

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