imagine a sound coming out of you.
a sound, that is you,
that now swoops down into vocal range,
yet feels
beyond the capacity of instrumentation.
just oral, as if from the landscape of being.
as sound,
as if a bullet train passing through,
by passing by,
as if the sound barrier of humanness,
broken through,
yet more than even a visual rush in passing,
all so demystifying.
the resounding,
as if earth in primal birth
and it is you,
coming from beyond,
for what character you know
of yourself to be.
a sound that channels through
the instrument of you,
resounding,
as if cellularly naked,
as in us all.
a sound that offers a peak at one's soul.
a scintillation,
that alters the chemistry
of existence going forward.
you gave it the sounding,
as it gives you life.
what we clearly want for ourselves,
is to be that instrument of being.
we feel for this as sacredness,
as if a nurturance offered,
to live upon
the inwardness that thrives,
in the echo coming from that sound.
for it creates no memory
but lives on,
as aliveness ever spreading,
as an impetus,
that permeates the presence
of each moment,
as a new birth,
without surface
or further need for account.
it is a reveling and a smolder,
enormity and simple treasure,
channeled and priceless,
cornerstone made lucid,
as the common-share of spirit,
sounding as the languaging of soul.
wanting to drink of this,
until drown.
to outpour of this,
until sanctuary evident.
be this voice that overwhelms,
to out the sense of self,
held in character,
into no memories,
just fresh in the moments forthcoming.
be the permission of being, undaunted,
as evocative over restraint,
compelled beyond reserve,
into the freefall of expandedness,
and ever bountiful beyond boundaried.
you wailed.
and I heard it,
into myself,
as if a baptism of energetic truth.
no more of the bible,
or the choir book,
just the diary of the moment,
writing itself in passing,
as this inner sound
that never ends,
once awaken,
from deep within . . .
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