The Joy of Song (Or, Why we Sing)

Tumbling…
I’m tumbling upwards.
Into the arms
Of
Blackened Stars.
Chaos mounting
In the cool sliver
Of life’s empty embrace
Visions of passing worlds
Ice and Fire playing in a field of heather
Billions of Voices crying out:
Alone Alone Alone
Like the solitary figure of
The UN-breakable redwood
Breaking. Crashing. Tumbling
No more No more No more
And I am alone no more
Upon this residence of Earth
Connected by:
The bustling market place
The sounds and scents of the farmers work
Ripe bursting ovaries of the earth
The sweet juice of the strawberry
Trickling down a child’s face
Like a stream that rushes headlong to the sea
that vast endless ether
In which the whale sings
For no other reason than to sing.