The day was long … thoughts random … rest available … and yet …
… writer’s block …
Mind clogged, occluded
Thoughts compounded; scattering
… unrest; Busy sounds
Tip of tongue, just out of reach
Sensory dis-chord unleashed.
~ Original, 2009
And then I ran across this poem … which resonates with my soul …
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
~ Elizabeth Bishop
