Air

i

Somewhere certain music plays gradually

Easing harmony and smooth rhythm

Like deep water through breathable waves

Swelling: a gathering of a hundred whispers,

Of lows and highs resonating a full chorus

And slowly letting go to begin a new song.

ii

In the attempt to capture the invisible,

We resort to amplify all four senses:

To touch, smell, taste and hear—

And those blessed with susceptible ears

Catch even the slightest sounds from afar.

iii

And I begin to mind how our songs fill minute

Fissures, shadowy bends, a hairbreadth’s length

Of a hole, the immense space—within

And between. When distance and proximity

Equally persist and mean nothing.

iv

Listen to the pervading wind whistling over

Vast oceans and heavenly peaks beyond

Pallid cliffs. It's unperturbed method of movement  

Bending fields, carrying seeds, and sifting earth

To scatter all elements, again and again.