In the distance, the voice
Of an angel invites
Me to sing.
A duet, I’m told.
Deftly skirting
Edges of my soul, I stand
Composed yet dissonant,
Resonant but mute. Murmurs hum
Yet wistfully whisper
In concert with desires
from all Quarters of my syncopated time.
Is this the harmony I ache for
The melody of the gods
The relative affinity to my past
Or merely another’s Siren song?
Voices of angels beckon
As I wonder. They symphonize
Almost Gregorian
A Mormon tabernacle of
Majestic language known only
To one who has ears to hear.
Listen, I say, for in these
Trebling times, peace is possible.
Then quiet.
A breeze accompanies the distance,
Crescendo of interweaving harmonies whispering.
The silence of the angels
Wakens me.
Acapella is not my forte.
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