The first uprising - horned
the music played itself both to and through
eternity in mortal form. Masters rose
again, from graves - too suddenly
complete - to hear the newborn
Quiet then, as flutes and
began to strum the glory of this
birth in flesh. Like a flower in its
slow, yet rhythmic opening into
the sunlit warmth. Extending out
and then becoming one within
the simple and majestic tone
of wind in great expression.
Sorrow speaking, silently,
that once was real. Unfolding further,
joy unfurls itself as if this pure relief
would never end. Lighter, lighter still,
until the spirit of the wind becomes
it all. Even as the bass resounds in
utter innocence of cosmic movement.
Almost silent, but not
quite. Then building,
this arpeggio of being! Higher, higher,
deeper still - until the moon and stars
at last repeat themselves within the
sunlit sky. This is love, so pure and
true, that all the angels come
to sing in its defense.
And then the strength of
must be heard at last. Reaching,
overwhelming all the forces of the past.
So easily, it flows and rings, these strings
that seem to fly on angels' wings. A pause,
and then the vast ascent begins. Opening,
oh yes, this opening to everything!
Slower, faster, breaching
like a rainbow
bridge, now drawn into forevermore
through us. And then the slash, as
yesterday is forced to see the shadow
that it left. Violins, oh violins play on!
French horn breaks in to silence them,
just as the deepest rumble of the drums
comes into play.
Fear evolved beyond a tremor,
and true, the bass relief sings out.
Expressing only faith for every doubt
we ever brought into our lives. Horns
and violins again, as all of us begin
a great ascent. Peace and love, a
gathering of arms that seek to heal
instead of hurt.
Visions of a field of wild
crazy in an ever-blooming spring. The
finale, and we come back to ourselves,
evermore to live this symphony...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .