Guest guest Posted June 23, 2002 Report Share Posted June 23, 2002 Be My Voice Beloved be this voice. This turtle dove in the heart. A song in your breast feathering as this existence. Be my voice. Let me hear you in the morning and speak as your discourse that whispered in the night, through the listening day. Your song is a lock of your hair that I form into sounds. I am swept from my throat as the breath of a silent passion. I am a drop of water in your mouth. Each word I utter is an epic love story sent as poems to lovers. You have stolen my speech and set fire to my mind for the consecration of love birds. You have made a zero of my tongue, a circle from which the angels of emptiness emerge. How I love to be this wind-space of your eternal echo. It is impossible to listen anymore to the forms of this intonation. I have lost my ear in this saying of you. Beloved, be this voice. I am poor and getting poorer in this speaking of you. You talk in my nowhere, and place me upon the air as a wing of your remembrance. Be my voice. love eric ___________________ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted June 23, 2002 Report Share Posted June 23, 2002 yes, speaking volumes is no easy matter! A painter can say more with his brush. Poetry is doomed to fail, its just a matter of degree. love eric Eric & Friends, Eric, I've enjoyed reading 'Be My Voice', particularly the lines: You have made a zero of my tongue, a circle from which the angels of emptiness emerge. Nice stuff, even if the body of the poem gives it the lie. yours in the bonds, eric , ErcAshfrd@a... wrote: > > Be My Voice > > Beloved be this voice. > This turtle dove in the heart. > A song in your breast > feathering as this existence. > Be my voice. > > Let me hear you in the morning > and speak as your discourse > that whispered in the night, > through the listening day. > Your song is a lock of your hair > that I form into sounds. > > I am swept from my throat > as the breath of a silent passion. > I am a drop of water in your mouth. > Each word I utter > is an epic love story > sent as poems to lovers. > > You have stolen my speech > and set fire to my mind > for the consecration of love birds. > You have made a zero of my tongue, > a circle from which > the angels of emptiness emerge. > > How I love to be this wind-space > of your eternal echo. > It is impossible to listen anymore > to the forms of this intonation. > I have lost my ear in this saying of you. > > Beloved, be this voice. > I am poor and getting poorer > in this speaking of you. > You talk in my nowhere, > and place me upon the air > as a wing of your remembrance. > Be my voice. > > > love > > eric > > ___________________ ------------------------ Sponsor ---------------------~--> Free $5 Love Reading Risk Free! Click Here! ---~-> /join All paths go somewhere. No path goes nowhere. Paths, places, sights, perceptions, and indeed all experiences arise from and exist in and subside back into the Space of Awareness. Like waves rising are not different than the ocean, all things arising from Awareness are of the nature of Awareness. Awareness does not come and go but is always Present. It is Home. Home is where the Heart Is. Jnanis know the Heart to be the Finality of Eternal Being. A true devotee relishes in the Truth of Self-Knowledge, spontaneously arising from within into It Self. Welcome all to a. Your use of is subject to Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted June 24, 2002 Report Share Posted June 24, 2002 Eric & Friends, Eric, I've enjoyed reading 'Be My Voice', particularly the lines: You have made a zero of my tongue, a circle from which the angels of emptiness emerge. Nice stuff, even if the body of the poem gives it the lie. yours in the bonds, eric , ErcAshfrd@a... wrote: > > Be My Voice > > Beloved be this voice. > This turtle dove in the heart. > A song in your breast > feathering as this existence. > Be my voice. > > Let me hear you in the morning > and speak as your discourse > that whispered in the night, > through the listening day. > Your song is a lock of your hair > that I form into sounds. > > I am swept from my throat > as the breath of a silent passion. > I am a drop of water in your mouth. > Each word I utter > is an epic love story > sent as poems to lovers. > > You have stolen my speech > and set fire to my mind > for the consecration of love birds. > You have made a zero of my tongue, > a circle from which > the angels of emptiness emerge. > > How I love to be this wind-space > of your eternal echo. > It is impossible to listen anymore > to the forms of this intonation. > I have lost my ear in this saying of you. > > Beloved, be this voice. > I am poor and getting poorer > in this speaking of you. > You talk in my nowhere, > and place me upon the air > as a wing of your remembrance. > Be my voice. > > > love > > eric > > ___________________ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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