Music Poem by Bea Early
Music
Music is messenger.
If God has a voice
He speaks in vibration, in temperature, in time.
String, reed, percussion
All belong to Him.
Quiet, and you can hear Him speak.
Cicadas sing a song in summer
Rain runs a rhyme
Hail hits hard
Snow sails softly, silently, sweetly
The final rest- cold of winter.
Spiritual symphony of sound and sense, and space and time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:23:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
