Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Our Song

Where my voice meets
the ethernety of vibration,
while yet in my flesh,
I know you;
You lift me up
so that I might find you
singing there also,
and I know this has been so
from the start of time
unto my conscious now
and even out to where no edge
may plunge beyond knowing.

In the song,
the song of we, of us and all,
there is no need of body
to support the tones
as they weave
and interleave;

Our exchange
leaves traces
of conversation,
like fingerprints,
across the wilderness
of uncreated potential,
where, were I able,
I might read them and,
when I return
to body awareness
from floating
in our ocean of sound,
I might read them,
and remember
unadorned truth,
then walk in that beauty,
in that spiritual reality,

--so difficult
within the inertia
of this state,
where fixity of mind,
either completely rigid
or utterly fragmented,
stymies fluidity—

Walk here,
as easily as in our song,
and its surrender
of music into music
unto the eternity
where we are one,
braided tones,
all of the song,
in the song,
and that music
is the peace
that never ends.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

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