It comes through me,
she says. Like light.
As if I am
a cup waiting
on the table.
As if emptiness
attracts. As if
stillness rings like
a bell, the sound
singing its way,
and silence asks
wisdom for more.
editors note:
Sound from silence like color from white. (We welcome Tom to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay