The Choir

Their sound is over me like a pillow
and I close my eyes to succumb to it all.
Their moisture in violet haze is a blanket;
one to guide me through whatever is amiss.
That sweet sonic salutation wanders to me;
over and over I leap with my unleashed heart.
A void is a period to wait and to be nourished
by what will come, each soundless segment
is yet another gift. Rise and fall, melodious and
agitated as though there has ne’er been any
thing but this. Rise and fall with me in time.

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