The Mystery of Sound

 

 

 

 

 

On the occasions, when one hears of the Orthodox,

We find a quiet assurance, arising mysteriously.

Its solid with the appearance of real to the touch,

Such a touch, so profound, is often the word itself,

The power of the sound, its rhythm and evocation,

From the environ and the suggestion of the memories.

For instance, the word orchard, an alternative to charts,

Or, offer, that's suggestive of a wild female in furs.

We are driven by the suggestion of the phonetics,

Like mystics in caves who meditate on the holy OM,

That authors bring to the suggestion of seduction,

In the mind, by the body of the enchantress holy,

With eyes like misty blades and full of knowledge,

Of many sounds that rise and fall in her adoring ears.

As a man intuits such things, he hears, Freiya! Freiya!

And he realizes that sound also means health and well.