A RHYTHM FOR SAINTS



Last night I heard my windows let in some magic.
It was a voice like none; I heard a stir and music.
I must have been in a reverie, for flames danced upon a candle wick,
And the wind came in with a subtle rage: me to pick.
We danced on beads of glass and blades of grass.
We waltzed across a keen but possessive night.
And so we sauntered in and out of the alien melody.

Last night I closed my mind and dreaded opening it.
And the open sky spun in pleasant fit.
And whoever strums those chords bore some fluidity,
For their ripples lit up the night sky; it seemed the full moon was falling.
Last night I let loose my rigor and nodded

Last night all the birds were awake.
And all their melodies rustled alongside their feathers.
And they knocked on my door; saying ‘let us in.’
While the rhythm was live and generous, it seemed angels were humming.
And my door gave in as dancing saints entered.

A poem by Tonny Wandella

Published by Azuni Blogger

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