The Bells Echo Poem by Mark Heathcote

When time is stilled and stopped in your heart
An echo heard might not mean that much.
Shall a song to remember be impart
It'll ring in your heart of silence, a touch-
So tremulous you will shake from within.
Believing something unforeseen,
Has taken shape and form within your skin,
and a host of angels shall intervene.
They will sing in chorus some unknown hymns.
Likes of which you'll never hear again
What they've written has no pseudonym.
There is no nameless place to hide or condemn.
A bell once --struck rings, pure, its purpose true.
It carries the essence we'll imbue.