The Melodies of Wraiths

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Since music is a movement searching on

To find the meaning of the soul, notes can

Not ever leave behind creation’s dawn

Completely.  Twilight seeks not what a man

Will want.  Perhaps the dawn returns instead

Of music surging forward only, break

Of day resumed in coda, not in dead

Quintessence of a ghost with funeral ache.

The mind goes rising, falling, rushing in

Its need and pausing only in a love

Of beauty, urging rests from fevered sin

And heading always up and up, above.

  The music wings high, skyward with the soul

Hear my prayer (O for the wings of a dove) – Mendelssohn – YouTube

    While searching spirits for the One, the Whole.

~ Phillip Whidden