THE PRIMORDIAL SOUND


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I want so much to hear your voice again.
To follow it down into the violet space that
Cushioned me from the reality of my world
And silenced the doubts that prey upon me.
Because I hear them daily now,
Urging me to give up and allow the blackness
To seep into my veins and corrode my soul
With its paralytic stupor.
And it’s tempting, somewhat, to think I could
Play with my own remote
And turn myself on and off at will,
Bypassing the pain and reveling in the joy
Even if it’s only remembered and not truly real.
At least in those imagined moments,
I feel alive and whole again,
And I hear your voice speaking words of love
That aren’t artful and contrived,
But ring true like a gong
With sound rippling and circling in every direction,
Flattening disbelief and hesitation like sheaves
Of wheat in the sun.
It shakes me free of the spell and I can walk away
From the lethargy that binds my feet to the earth
And my spirit to defeat and for that moment,
I soar. 
Higher and higher, past the stratosphere
Beyond the galaxies into that lavender haze
Where the infinite resides and all things are possible.

But, it’s only a daydream, and a bitter one, too
For it opened the door to eternity and slammed it shut
Before I could walk through,
Leaving me with only the memory of the words
And their unfinished creation.

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3 Responses to “THE PRIMORDIAL SOUND”

  1. I’m starting to hear that voice now. Hope it goes away.

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