Little sound now
As the sun
Sinks into pine.
Hours ago,
We chanted,
Bodies losing form.
One frequency
Through many.
Hours ago,
Entwined voices
Summited the
Old peak.
Free for a moment,
All parts
Gone.
Free for a moment,
All parts
Evaporated.
Little sound now
As the moon hangs
Over the temple.
Chant
Posted by Reese LeBlanc | Aug 2, 2022 | Journal, Poetry & Prayers | 0 |
