the resonance of beauty

Silence trembles.
A song flutes forth.
Just here, right now, we became a listening.
No need to practice.
Our song is known in its knowing.

Spontaneously you smile.
This effervescence of music.
Presence sings even in the sound of fine champaign.
Charade of voices, one voice.
Sourced in one life living.

Just here, right now.
A note or two or a thousand.
Mozart didn’t stop to ask for purpose in his art.
We all drift upward to express the joy of silence.
No paradox.

When vibration recedes,
Into the ground of being
(we must go back to work and daily tasks)
we still tremble, dear.
The perfume of truth lingers.

Would you not call us
A song
Remembering itself
in the resonance of its own
Living beauty

credit: weston mackinnon | unsp