flight of the butterfly, rising free
Sing the most glorious song
Live in the place of bright praise
Taste the heavenly light
With joy, in divinity’s days
The power of the notes
Pervasive in the air
Touching all who sing them
Releasing the dormant care
must they rhyme?
all the time?
and the beat?
not retreat?
is the writing of the poem in the ear of the knowing?
will the reader in the dream be dismayed by its showing?
must i continue to write this even though it's snowing?
can you feel that the timbre of my voice, it is bowing?
the rhyme
the beat
the poem
live it