When she sings, all my worldly
concerns evaporate, dissipate, crumble and
degenerate into petty foibles that now are gone.
No more is my attention hell-bent
against them, fueling and enflaming them
All that matters is that I hear the
truth she sings, and how she sings it; the
subtleties that her heart and attention
reveal - how she frames it, how I taste it -
the intricacies that now seem as real and
deadly as tempered steel in the hands of a warrior king.
Oh such piercing blows. Oh such
devastating blows. Yet, they are from
wisdom’s armory, and hit upon one with
the delicacy of a summer breeze. Yet, they
do sting, oh how they sting.
And I, upon my knees can only weep:
Crispin H. Sandford
Bravo Copyright 2004 Crispin H. Sandford. All Rights Reserved. Printed by the Parley Press in the U.S.A.