When hymns that ring in the midst
Of silence, entwined betwixt
Words to live by profound,
Crystal thought to precede the sound
Are one with faith sublime,
The Prophecy flows divine.
Thus is defined sin and purgatory;
Of penance and misery stories told,
When lightning strikes and thunder howls,
Heroes emerge and myths unfold.
Though it intrigues me in wake today,
That in my mind, not heart,
Reside those hymns and words, yet
Thoughtful silence begets Art.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
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3 comments:
well written!
...and that's how we create something out of nothing: by examining a contradiction.
Thanks, Suddu.
I think creativity comes from the weirdest of places, Alok. A contradiction is a spark, surely.
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