27 October 2007

renaissance music

words sung or spoken need have little sense
all that should matter is the changing tone
each of us listens for the sound alone
the night air is now with rich echoes dense
we need no meaning nor any suspense
all that must signify the wind has blown
warmth leaches down into the very bone
a moment passes of the most intense
flame that erupts in watches of the night
guiding sad traveller to distant shore
where soft and welcome hands and smiles await
we steer towards the red and happy light
not knowing what remains or what else more
will happen when we pass the shining gate

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