Listening Poem by Thomas Foreman

You cast your spells,
where even faith is questioned on market value
Ranked in competition,
like petty bargaining on a stores display

I am listening for a sound,
within a pitch unwound
Splendid is your mystery,
bound in bearing heart
Secretly whispered, often fore sought

I hear your cries, wintered in loneliness
Apart! These bonds of language
Cast in poetic expanse,
Rattled on the arctic winds

I hear your secret sounds
You are a temptress vision,
stranded in branded pleasure
Scattered, are the pieces of your battered puzzle
Lain before me,
Franchised, in never ending measure

And here,
Just before, curious indifferent eyes
I look at your touched up pictures,
of scenes yet to be experienced
Pastoral virtues,
portrayed in managed outcry

Open your heart,
For the wisdom of all the ages,
Of all the scriptures,
Of all the prophets
Resides within you, my friend
Never to part

I am listening for a sound