THE AUTHOR'S VOICE
I opened a book to read
and the text spoke to me
in the author's voice!
Roomfuls of Italian marble statues
rolled their eyes toward me as I
passed.
A cube of air opened up one of its
sides in space, and I
entered. I'm
sailing in it now. Incandescent.
Over the sea. Waves below as if a
medieval beast were churning.
A medieval
beast is churning. Lanterns have
a trapped djinn in them.
Flames shoot and spurt. Someone
opened their bedroom door the other day
and a dozen pure white
horses galloped out at full
steam, silvery manes
streaming.
Things have changed. I sat in the
damp room and opened the
book on my lap. The great binding
creaked. As soon as the
pages lay flat
the text started speaking
in the author's voice!
I opened book after book. Page after
page fell open and the
author's own distinct
voice could be heard.
I opened the Qur'an.
Holy! Holy! Holy!
Trees on the hill
burst into flame!
The stairway became a
graduated hierarchy
of blue pools!
Outside the window the
sky turned black
behind a rush of white doves!
Holy Voice so loving
went straight to my heart!
Direct Voice of
He Who
created the fishes and
the clouds.
The Voice from the page
entered me.
If I listen real close to
silence I can hear it.
If I bend down into myself
I can hear His Voice speaking.
11/3
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