…in the flute’s haunting, birdlike notes, the god breathes on the listener and infinite and finite are momentarily experienced as one.
— The Book of Symbols (Taschen, 2010), p.664
Tonight in a city parking lot,
harried by a frantic life,
I trace the note beyond
a filigree of leaves
to a silhouette, flute in hands,
embraced by warm light.
Pied piper soothes.
…
Silver notes ride
rays of moonlight,
glisten on dew damp leaves,
cross dark shadows eyeless,
summon us.
Phantom figures, we leave campfires,
duck branches,
wend our way,
drawn by
the pull,
as strong as the tides,
to the source:
a lone figure
standing on moist earth.
…
Under a canopy of reverence
a child at the altar
summons those same silver notes;
in the rear, unseen,
I support the melody circling higher to the rafters.
Worshipers, surprised by unrehearsed harmony,
seized by the eternal,
know sacred space,
…
Star memory twinkles bright.