Night.
And then, in the night, starts an underlying bass note,
not cello, nor violin, not instruments of any kind…
a sub-earthy roar in the air, distant yet looming.
Voices, animal, primal? No, bigger than that,
an otherworldly drone, multi-tonal yet singularly monstrous,
distant yet personally present, calling your names like it knows your fear.
Then the darkness cries and the drone is broken
by screaming tears of falling fingers.
Streams and running watery sounds hiss
and wash away the roar into a thousand fragments.
Whispers remain, a distant threat retreats into hollows unseen
and space remains in the emptiness.
Dark colourless sound almost silent
but the farthest hum can be felt
if you hold your breath, swallow, and listen…
.
Day.
A dawning… A cleansing breath
of the lightest strings and piano notes
lift a mist to reveal another breath, another breath,
and… another… the absence of noise, the presence of rhythm.
A hint of light seeps through, enlightening hope…
Direction, ambition, fresh hope and unity…
Knowledge, inspiration, spirit. Wide, wide possibility,
horizon, touch and sensation… chorus…
Glassy eyes widen and know acceptance.
Blended inclusion. Minutiae blossoms.
The joy of process, the chance of encounter,
and tastes of the treasured.
Percolating outward steps, towards the reception of sustained community.
Breeze, more than sound, graceful movement,
like the sound of the sea… breaths…
Jules P Richards 