Echo (Part 2)

A strange tune plays on the night wind tonight
Mild like smoking cinders yet gentle like a sigh
Perhaps its the stardust of an unwritten rhyme
Perhaps its the whisper of passing time

A poet bent over his mellowed parchment, searching
For a sign, for a picture in his mind, an inspiration
Blind to the sickly tungsten ghost that haunt his lair
Deaf to crickets and the playful night air

A hearbeat echos through his weathered cage
Urging this art in him to grow, to burn, to rage
Another seduces his pen, his rhymes, his mind
A heartsong, an impression, a tale of love divine

What hands can hold a moment in time;
What eyes can melt this heart sublime?
What gems hold fast to this poet's dreams
Bent over parchment, flowing ink on cream.

Have you ever felt an archangel's wings
Whose touch would make your senses sing?
Have you seen a musician's commanding hands
Sweep men aside like piles of sand.

No borders nor pickets nor iron fists
Could stand in the way of a poet's gift
No door no wall nor suit of iron and steel
Could ever hold fast against rhyme's will

Yet with one swift glance of truth, of life
May sweep through ruins, lines of strife
Though angel's wings will never be seen
By eyes that rhyme and play lyrical sin
Her breath, a touch of phantom warmth
Will mould the dust and move the stones
To bring new life even to dry forgotten bones

A rhyme, a song, a faint longing
A poet, an echo, a heart storming.
A hope, a prayer, a tear running dry
A star, a moon, an angel passing by.

-------------------------------------


Finally, an echo is complete.


JKLM