ToThePoem - a place for poetry

It is the music I hear From the depth of my soul. You are singing there And the sound is of all the colors in existence. Glorious and in balance. The bells, the strings. Horns. Percussion. I hear a drum slapping. It creates beautiful waves in space. The heavens laugh and Turn on their belly And do not feel frightened by it. Do not care as to when they will Turn back around. Babies are born at this sound. A cymbal. The sound resonates with The collective. Reverberates, And all listening souls join hands Feeling the vibration And filled with hope For mankind. And then the most beautiful voice arises Like pouring from a siphon. An undecipherable voice, An unknowing voice. Like an ancient, undetected language, Hidden in hearts of man. Of me. It extends out of me Like arms of an octopus, Reaching, singing, praising. Moving upward and onward, Trudging with sweat Of the journey. A most magnificent sound of living. The music inside me It lives and it breathes. It tells of your story And it fil

It is blood red. It pumps with emotion It rush's out, Blood red. Spewing on those around me. And seeps in to my Eyes. And we, together, me and my heart Act and react as Madmen, Entangled. And blind. But transformation begins And to see, The being must move beyond love. Free the heart from the ropes that bind it, Allowing the ropes to become light weight, Strings, then feathers, then air, As I travel the hills, The rough terrain, To the emptiness. To release the heart. It is then that I can see again and It is still blood red, still me, But, this time it shimmers gold. It radiates purity. And then becomes white And it asks nothing of me Yet fills me completely. It has expanded beyond my being And can now hold me And hold you in your truest sense. It is love. Stephanie Lorentzen-Jordan