Sound

Why do we try colour the air with words?
Pigments of touch through proprioception learn
Phonetic symphonies of those unheard
Tones, pitch and shades of their vernacular
Has eighth sense now of empathy been lost?
Has aurigraphy lexicon replaced
our innate primal instinct... at what cost?
Regressed through knowledge, whilst sixth sense
defaced
Like the waves. all sound ripples, crests and falls
In rivulets, cascades, pools... deep maelstroms
An ancient pasigraphy sequenced call
distracts from our bodies' vibrations hum
Our harped halcyon ambience unfolds
Auras visceral perceptions penumbra
Geometries cymatic patterns mould
Truth… essence always lies in the umbra
Sand grains reveal sound waves as mandalas
Chladni's plate shows frequency visualised
Trope….. pareidolia reflects stellar
through sequence, cadence.. all materialise
Establish sacred space and third eye's lens
Through mindfulness mantras. filters hone
To feel wonder's symbiosis ascend
Witness... become…. creation's rhythmic tone

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry