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Robert L. Martin

Harmonie Paradis

Harmonic Paradise, my love, my heaven, my home,
my pulse, my love, my exotica, my nectar.
You await me with thy loving arms,
thy sweet breath that fills my empty chasms,
my home within a sea without a name,
my mysterious hunger that searches for a sound,
an echo from a land behind the mist,
a palpitating language of the Gods,
a barcarole in cadence
with the motion of the tides,
a language in search of a port,
a hand unseen but a hand persuasive,
that lures me into the wilderness,
strips me naked and anoints me with exotic oils,
that casts me into a dream and stirs my passion,
a river that runs up and down my spine,
that evades my mind but finds my heart,
that music that knows me, but I don’t know it,
that gets into my spirit
and transports me into a dream,
that knows how to bring tears to my eyes,
how to take over my vulnerable being,
my oblivious self that I don’t know,
my rhythm that blends with thy rhythm,
my harmony that blends with thy harmony,
that sound that lives in my spirit
that responds to the sound of thy voice
of unknown origins and places and names,
that chose me among others from my world,
to overpower me with thy invisible arms,
cast me into thy seas that are a part of me,
and bring me to my home that is your home.
 
 
 
An ode to the power of a sound,
a sound without a name,
that came to me unheralded.

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