Listening with the Light

I once saw a movement,
a teardrop moving up from below,
a melody trying so hard to be seen
that when I asked to listen,
the sound could only blind me in white light.

Where does one go in the sightless pure color of white?

Back to the dark
a quiet realm to listen once more
to that place where seeing has been impossible.

I saw a phrase once,
whose crescendo could be heard
coming from the distance,
whose diminuendo cried to not be lost,
to always be available to those
who can see the song of the past,
know the harmony of the present,
anticipate with clarity
the lyrics of the future.

listening again with the light,
one finds love.

Oh my… Oh my.