My Self-Communing Silence
Relate to me with not one word of sorrow,
As from some timeless lay,
Regale me with a numinous poetic theme
That shall take me faraway!
O’ forespeak to me no form of darkness,
That may lie beyond my sight,
Nor utter thus to me of life’s nearing end
To time’s everlasting flight!
Address me not with one fallacious word,
Nor vocals of dispute,
Reply to me only with the purist of truth
That no one can refute!
O’ thus retell to me from the ethereal verse,
As God I then may hear,
For I wish only the sacred prose of Heaven
To fall upon my ear!
Speak to me no despairing words of sorrow,
Nor one single utterance of pain!
I beseech ye!
Sound gently now, upon this burdened soul,
As the drops of summer rain!
O’ or leave me to my self-communing silence,
Lest all madness be unfurled,
For it is difficult to hear the muse of harmony
Through the discordance of this world!
Copyright © R. L. McCallum | Year Posted 2018