air song

a bamboo flute pours over you
its soul,
green and heavy with the memory of rain
that once washed it of youth –
don't move,
allow it to ooze
into the crevices of your thoughts,
of your dreams.
let it grow wings out of your silence,
strong wings,
wide wings,
so that it can carry you along the lane of peace.
and while you ride the dunes of its sound
see how they curve around your mood
with an almost feathery touch,
nesting within their helix
your breath.




Poetry by Lilly Negoi
Read 701 times
Written on 2012-12-28 at 17:34

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countryfog
I have many recordings of Chinese and Native American flute music, and often find myself coming to it almost without consciously choosing it . . . the music is utterly organic and a natural and necessary element of my mood and the view from my window, especially as dusk settles into the pines. Some music transports you, some makes where you are more complete and you more completely there . . . this is the latter.
2012-12-30