Calling
There, don't you hear it
too?
Something is calling, although
The day is blank and gray.
Something is calling, although
The day is blank and gray.
The eye fastened on
nothing,
The ear undistracted
And we with nothing to say.
The ear undistracted
And we with nothing to say.
But still that sense of
calling,
Of something seeking attention
Beyond our consciousness.
Of something seeking attention
Beyond our consciousness.
That voice in voiceless
things
When they cease to be themselves,
Losing their choice and purpose.
When they cease to be themselves,
Losing their choice and purpose.
Joining the
indiscriminate
Otherness which surrounds us
At our own times of withdrawal.
Otherness which surrounds us
At our own times of withdrawal.
It is then that the world
calls us
As if to reinterpret
Or to reconfigure.
As if to reinterpret
Or to reconfigure.
Whose is this voice? A
god's?
Surely not. It seems
To be the voice of duty
Surely not. It seems
To be the voice of duty
That speaks of
origins
And of relationships
Between things grown apart.
And of relationships
Between things grown apart.
And I remember the
muezzin
Singing every morning
Raptly, as if for himself.
Singing every morning
Raptly, as if for himself.
Singing in the dark
hour
At a distance, over all,
And yet outside our door.
At a distance, over all,
And yet outside our door.
His practised lilt spoke
more
Of the puzzles of night than of
The determinations of morning.
Of the puzzles of night than of
The determinations of morning.
As though the light had
still
To be charmed into being
And each day a reward.
To be charmed into being
And each day a reward.
The voice is much like
his,
A commanding meditation
Rising from the blankness.
A commanding meditation
Rising from the blankness.
Of a sleeping
senselessness,
Thoughtful, improbable,
But stirring us to beauty.
Thoughtful, improbable,
But stirring us to beauty.
And like his, the
voice
Links us for a while
In its reiterations
Links us for a while
In its reiterations
Then ends abruptly, as
if
Distracted by something else
Of no great importance.
Distracted by something else
Of no great importance.
~ John Fuller ~
(Ghosts)
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