The wind whispered through me, like fingers
Tracing silently across still waters,
Etching abstractly, designs of both fractions.
Within the same contemporary chorus, love
And hate reside on the same staff---
Where thier songs are so opposing that the
Harmony blends fluidly.
Two sounds contrast yet compliment,
Like the wind---silently composing for
Orchestras of leaves
And the rain's--violent pounding choir.
Yet thier harmonies compelled even the
Amateur Strauss, Bach and Handel,
Who find solace and insperation between
Bars of contrasting color.
Where the music tells a lively story,
Vividly intricate.
And momentarily the wind is pale and
Soothing, to exchange with the vibant and
Angry tale of the tormented wind.
Each has it's own tale of woe and pain to
Augment,
But between rests, clearly is heard the
Beauty of the tragic Messiah
Where lain to rest by peals of thunder and
Whips of lightening,
Ends the sounds of the wind and rain in
An Epiphany of Silence
