WHEN the BLACKBIRD SINGS

Overtones, I hear them

in the wee hours of dawn:

the blessed bird

en-chanting the new day

into birthing;

each new moment,

 a timeless, (re)newing world.

A welcome, a realization of

Light and Life

ever flowing and always present.

I hear them: 

those otherworldly tones,

barely audible to everyday;

angelic chords of frequency

echoing in the ethers

as their golden edges thrum primordial veins of joy

in absolute be-ingness.

.

I can hear them, 

in my bones and blood

reverberating at the tips of awareness:

the orchestra of the spheres,

resonant.

No-thing such as inner or outer:

Immanent throughout.