As a small child,
when I had little cares,
I knew myself.
I knew my tribe.
We, who are...
Transmitters of sine, saw and square,
Mend broken hearts with the resonance of Love.
The Great Creatrix breathes through us,
as the piper blows into his whistle.
Harmony and Dischord dance our bones alive
and birth themselves into the bodies of passersby.
We are sung as the Gifts of Voice.
Donum of Vox Vocis
No comments:
Post a Comment
Constructive feedback and supportive comments are always welcome. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me!