the poem I love chimes out of Time
impossible to be mistaken for something else
small brushstroke before the venerable mountainin a silken
wind,
...
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It's beautiful to be so receptive to distant chimes, to inklings and intimations and gleams. These things are compounded into a magical fabric. They harken back to the source of all created things; they also help us live in a forward looking way.
By posting this poem, you have inspired me to post a poem about windchimes that I translated.