The heart’s ears
For a taste of Heaven, a sip of the raw proof,
settle under a spire where they sing
of pearly gates, the breath of flowers,
the holy fountain, amaranthine bowers,
your heart’s ears to hear and follow.
Miss not the chance in your Sunday suit
to scramble up the mountainside,
lift to your lips the waters of Union
as clearly and truly as might be
brought to this realm by human voices.
And if you cannot yet believe, o seeker,
tear at the obstructions stopping up
your heart’s ears, the sort of
small-minded, literal logic and reasons
that doom the soul again and again
to the ancient rounds of birth and death.
O child of God, listen to both music and silence
with the same transcendent ears of the heart.
|(painting by Joe DiSabatino)|