Despair, tumult of chaotic
Cries for resolution. Abrasive
demand for attention, pulling
at my ears to pay heed
Release, deceptively sweet
Ethereal hinting at desires unfulfilled
Insistent interruption of a low note subsides
into melancholy meanderings, sliding
into triumphal meditations to the minor
Shifting in and out of demanding
dissonance and airy whispers of tension.
Pull and release, tension between
silence and sound, soft and loud,
heaven and hell. But man lives in between.
Passion and power escalating to
simultaneous heights and depths
Open wanderings, significance in space
and silence-pauses can say as much as sound.
But sin can creep into the spaces
Trembling tremelos, with passion or fear or strain
to uphold the tension, strength and silence then
softness building into surety, sliding into
running water and notes and thoughts, falling
heavy downwards and leaping up to silent stars.
SIn creeps in whenever we start to soar.
I see the light. The cross. My saviour, my God.
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