Listening to Arvo Part

I hear the notes fall like snowflakes

soft and pure

and perfect.

Where does this peace come from?

This rest, this light, this beauty?

Surely it is born of the human ache

for freedom and transcendence.

 

It all comes from wound, they say

Every bit of real art has its birth in blood.

 

These strains

These melodies

These harmonic tones

Are the dances of angels

The call of sirens

echoes of the songs of heaven

 

Filling the heart

with every thought

of love

and surprise

and satisfaction

and delight.

 

Why hasn’t some government tried to suppress this?

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s