Monday, May 12, 2014

What I Feel Whilst Listening to Ludwig von Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp Minor

Soft, slow as the coming of day
All is dark, all is lost
Peeking through the cracks, standing there
Metal on metal, steel and wool
we are not so hopeless after all
The sky the clouds of night
Cover over me
Lift me to the lips
a glass of fine wine
As wolves chase through the fleeing night
Warm, all is warm
as the sun covers up everything
broken light of day
fragmented, falsified
righteous as the hillside
the blades of dew-stained grass
and contrast
the death curled up within me
it melts away, afraid of the light
it feels in its fingers
its unavoidable demise
as the morning air fills my lungs
as if passing by a baker on my morning walk
into the day, so full and alive
so ready to be made
and, oh
it is he that makes it
it is he that caresses it awake
green and ever greener
bright and ever brightening
yes, it is he
Oh, there is God in this place
he smiles, and stares
into the pupils of my eyes, holding his gaze
long enough for me to hear his words
his whisper in the dew-stained grass
Oh, there is God in this place
the piano chords speak his name
they sing of his coming
as they sing me back to sleep
aware, unarmed
but known to the core
and loved, head to toe
Yes, there is a God
There is a God

1 comment:

Priscilla Benitez said...

you have a way with words. and I love how art affects and moves you.