I take all the emotional rubbish words from songs
and clean them to my mind
because the breeze of earnestness flies
whatever the mouth of delivery was for then
I chase after meaning like that
because there is a pure heart
buried in the rubble of attempts to exemplify
no, I don’t buy the medium of projection
but deep within whoever sings, the call goes out
the sound of the mating call of spirit resonates
I meet it and haven’t move from here
but am secretly already there in the commingle
and nothing is said out loud above the listening
heartfelt between my internal pulse and the pounding
I have no dimension of time between us
our space apart is sacred to me for receiving
not so much devoted to the words
but helplessly bathing in the sounding coming forth
higher plains then we would normally hear at
but more deeply penetrative to my soul
I come to know myself more deeply
by your divine sound of presence
yes, it’s a junk pile all around
but I search for just this
vibratory melodies the voice can offer
the come forth and cleanse my soul . . .
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