It is–Yes–these notes in their stridency,
“Oh, God,” my heart cried out, “these notes
are true, else all the world’s a lie.”
These notes and the swirl of a hundred more
from a heart that cried for God, for light,
for truth. I wept at the purity
of thoughts I grasped yet no words can tell.
The clock was hushed and the world was stilled
just these notes that spoke as my heart grew wise
across the years. Heart spoke to heart.
These notes, oh Yes, in their stridency
these notes baptised my creativity.
Though their bows are still and their reeds laid by,
still their echo sings and my heart still cries.