CHANT TO SILENCE

In the darkest hour before dawn,

I slowly lift my lashes,
Alls still, utterly still,
Dimness surrounds me,
Enveloped by not a sound.

No sea waves,
No birds chirping,
No blowing wind.
Or tree swishing.
Purely a deep velvety quietude,
Alluring, cushioned, nurturing.

Eyes wide open inward,
I hear the smooth, rhythmic flow,
Of my emotions piping through me,
Wrapped in a pastel, mute cocoon.

Inside, I am Orpheus,
Fingering delicate chords;
Hymns from the harp,
Stringing my reveries.



No conflicts,
No contradictions,
No vexation.
Or racket.
Solely the soft balmy mist,
Of my wandering placid soul.

A song composes within,
Melodic and calm,
Harmonic and fulfilling,
Lulling my inner self into peace.

Tides of tranquil thoughts,
Wave, hushed, in me,
Like the gentle, musical rocking
Of a serene hidden pond.

In solitude, I feel myself embarking,
Vagarious, slack, willing,
In a mellow, noiseless vessel,
Of rare, precious silence.

Lisa Torcato
06.2014