The Sound of a Miracle

I walk into the placeless valley knowing
Sound and silence are illusions
Snug in a sky that is wide open.

I search for love-filled words
             deeper than love songs.

I search for the pulse of love,
              beyond any fragile movement of heat and skin,

I search for a pulse, a breath, a hum,
              that rises as air and scatters through the universe

Here, along the shore of this placeless space,

              we watch ducks in the whispers of dawn
              rise from the lake, wings splashing the surface,
              as they ascend into a detachment of clouds.

The sky if full of clever spaces between here and there,
              today and tomorrow, memory and fantasy
              as a miracle descends as rain from travel worn clouds
              disguised as our imagination.

What sound has a miracle? Does it crack
Faintly like a sprout that splits
The crust of earth to meet the stunning rays
Of the dazzling sun?

Could the same be true of a soul
Who forsakes this lonesome sphere
To soar into tiers of light?
What sound comes forth from such delight?

            -- C. S. Cholas
                Fast reflection, March 2, 2005