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"The executioner's face is always well hidden" -- Bob Dylan
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by wisp Tuesday, May 15 2012, 1:47pm
international / prose/poetry / other press

words flow easier
when chasing melodies;
sonorous waters
quench and refresh
(parched) souls

i cast myself adrift
without care, anticipation or regret

truly free from
expectations and desire
allowing the new
to appear unblemished
before me

memories fade
like diminishing echoes
dropping from
audible range

(yet) sound as we know
remains forever,
vibrating ever so faintly
through the entire universe --
only our limited range of hearing
protects us from the maddening
cacophony around us

from the very first pulse of creation
to the static of today
countless sounds and vibrations,
an unimaginable din
able to drive the strongest mind
to utter distraction.

nature is kind
limiting our senses
allowing us time to develop strength
to withstand infinite creation
and all its voluptuous glory

impatient youth
force the doors of perception to yield
all creation
to flood in

the only avenue of
escape is
abandoning mind
and sacrificing reason.

seas of liquid sound
form pulsing colours,
swirling tones
until a familiar echo,
long thought lost
begins to impinge
on the senses
increasing in intensity
until distinct;

it was/is the first love song
i ever wrote (for You).

audio The Pretenders - Hymn to Her

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