First anniversaries replay the tune,
Instigating music yet unheard,
Reminiscences without a word,
Salient as the dark side of the moon.
Then sing with joy the old, familiar song
And listen for the notes you cannot hear,
Notes that play but to the inner ear,
Nor more nor less the love for which you long.
In silence underneath your celebration,
Vivid lies the truth of which you sing,
Exact as ice, radiant as summer,
Rich and spare, bountiful and pure.
So will you sense this sense without sensation
As you let the bells of glory ring,
Rejoicing to the rhythm of time’s drummer,
Yet yearning still for what you have, and sure.

About the Author:
Nicholas Gordon

 

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