Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Voluntary Mute

Go with ease, to the place where restful nights
And singing choruses upon the flights
Of an angelic ladder, and there find
Peace within the silence you do bear; bind
Your tongue with unblemished fire, derive
From silence the hidden song, comes alive
At midnight, that lasts until five o'clock;
When morning dawns with the sun at the dock.
Yet while you stay and listen to them, these
Souls of the just, bright men and women, please
Note that the knot above your throat is gone,
And when the last note has finished, and wan
Is the night, and stark is the morn, that song
Shall be your gift, from night's own silent gong.

                 The Voluntary Mute, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012

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