Sunday, September 30, 2012

Poem: Cantata

Fills me with something, better than sensation.
Pure. Use it to blot out the world, and to be of it.
Trade touch for this, sight, limb and sense
to live bathed in it. Rise and fall, stops breath
thought and reason. Wells inside, consumes, feeds.
Fulfills and makes me want, everything in this.
For a moment, perfection, echoing. Enough. 
Joyous. Living.

No comments: