Every sound begins a sermon
tells me where I am
what I have become,
where the next adventure lies.
I started with a ticking clock
symbolic of our borrowed time
always a reminder
that our lives do hang in the balance
when suddenly drowned out by machines
those that run our lives when we awaken
from the silent revery of our destiny.
Distant in the background
the ticking remains
yet now I am alone
listening and trying to hear
that word, or phrase or natural light
that indicator of why I do exist in the moment
why right now as I lay here on my couch
my life has purpose
and everything around me,
is part of a design
a greater vehicle of fortune
that I might ever imagine.
In the silence I hear my children’s voices
laughter and innocence
when neither they or we
concerned ourselves with the next day.
That’s different now,
when we think about what is next
much like the chords on a guitar
waiting for the next ballad
there’s always a ballad
looming about during moments of reckoning.
What is the music that played when silence
began the spiritual journey toward humility.