A Music That Plays To Music.

[Guest guest]

A Music That Plays To Music

 

Music only seems to be played by two.

The Beloved places Her mouth in you,

and sings or drums you to sweetness

or sets your orchestra alight

with Her fire.

 

To beat the band,

you must become Her soloist.

The note of you

must be the chorus of Her.

Don’t try to be every player.

 

Sit down in the throat of this light,

and make room for the sound

of Her prelude,

then be hollow enough

to be the reed in the estuary

of Her coming.

 

Be expanded by the wind,

of Her longing to move within you

as a flood or trickle of desire.

If you cannot flow

fall head long into the ocean,

and give up your old melodies

to become this Rhapsody.

 

Music like this, is love-play.

A minstrelsy between two rivers

meeting as a reed bed of wind chimes.

Who can say who breathes who?

There is only this longing

in the lung of One.

 

If I could be only the afterglow

of this air,

I would be content to be that pause,

between Loves respiration.

Like a silent interval

waiting upon its next variation

on this enigma.

I would not be the instrument at all,

but the Beloved's kiss,

upon this flute She plays.

 

 

love

 

eric

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2002. Eric Ashford.