An ode to Sarengi

From the strings of time
to my wrinkled eyes
from the vastness of the sea
to the solitude of old trees
your frail voice
recalls me in every song.

Songs of the newly buried
and the unburied fragments
of days, hours
to the steepness of the past
when rolling the die
at most meant a scraped knee.

Every moment meant a new beginning
a journey on earth's hidden secrets
into the warmth of rain songs
basking in unopened fragrances
of the infinite sky.

I go wailing on doors
beseech them to part
ask the untold oceans
to open and unroll
emptying me.

In that hour, that moment
I recall you
to take me where I belong
through the humid rings of your notes
I will let my heart wander
and when I am ready to be lost
bury me in the lap of
the outstretched expanse
of the mountains
beneath the feet of
the agile whistling wind.

5/5/2006 7:12 AM - First Posted