Of Sound

there are sounds
dressed in the robes of winter light
whose touch is one
of swaddling absolution
whispered in our ears
as music to an instrument,
as the comfort of a metaphor
consoles a mind with empathy

fluttering, undulating waves
created of disruption
to the curtains round our ears
as color bleeds to shape
of light acoustic
strumming on the eyes
of unified awareness

sometimes the symbol is the meaning
and our recollection of the world
the strange bemusement
at its lavish inconsistencies
is the enigmatic prism
through which life itself is born

Reviews

[Rad!0Act!v3 T3ddyB3ar Z..]

This is a very good poem...I like it