Through the speaker
The sound of her voice
Entered my heart
With ambrosial grace and presence
The sound of her voice
Entered my heart
With ambrosial grace and presence
Still…
“Travelling South East Asia,” he said
“You’ll wake up every morning
And have no idea
What the day will bring.”
Where the sounds of water
Lapping at your canoe
The trill of a loon
And a child’s laughter
Splashing in the lake
Become a presence
Getting there
To a place without feeling
I find a wasteland of being
An emptiness
In the midst of plenty