After silence has spoken,
in this moment's reflection;
Expression bids my thought
in such languish my words linger,
appearing in my mind's eye
as unstrung pearls.
Some, yet waiting to emerge,
forming treasury in knowledge,
Beseeching my spirit to create.
A jeweler, I become
awaiting the arrangement
of perfectly imperfect art.
Stillness sings an unsung tune;
one my heart already knew.
I become its composer,
beguiling, searching, yielding...
to the litany of lines
only a Power greater than I
can sing over me.
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