Poem Song : Sing To Me

This is a personal poem with backdrops of contemplative music to enhance its emotive quality. This is intended for healing, introspection growth, and rejuvenation. Hopefully, you will enjoy my experiment with music and emotion.

Transcript

Dear friends, I'm recording my poem after a long time, But since we last recorded, I've had many opportunities to write new poems. It's a gift that I want to share with you. For whom the bell tolls, O Tibetan bowls, Now is the time for you to sing to me. I'm alone and receptive to your resonance long after you are struck. For whom the bell tolls, O Tibetan bowls, Now is the time for you to sing to me. I'm alone and receptive to your resonance long after you are struck. O bells, How you speak to me, Silence, Such a great communicator, Without a word, I know the bells toll for me. My well of almost fifty is beginning to dry, No more buckets splash gleefully in my waters, And weary travellers spitefully carry on. I in this echo chamber long to raise my head for some favours of rain, Bitter that nobody dare pour some. Hidden in the depths of such days I reconnect. My poems come to huddle me, And in their long and loving embrace I remember the promise of every intentional life to go deep. The moist soil of my sweat and tears holds possibilities. In this retreat, I move the hard bedrocks one at a time, In the promise of the now-awakened dream, Stream, Stream, Stream, Heal. In the forest clearing surrounded by trees, I sat on a mossy rock, Away from the ticking clock, Held my coat. The sun shone bright, Among the singing birds in sight. This is how I went below, To have a talk with myself. Me asked, What do you want to be today? I answered, What is needed of me? The world needs healers, It's changing around us, Stress, Time-scarcity, Distractibility, Angst, Punches below the belt, All that is felt. It's all more than before, For sure, Not in a sudden way, But a persistent way. Here to stay? More healers everywhere. Healers everywhere in nature, Wounds heal rather than fester, Cool winds for the hot summer, Rain for the parched earth, A resting branch for the weary bird, A safe place for every birth. More healers. I'm a healer, I hear me say, A healer of spirit, Body and mind, A healer to myself as well, A doula of sorts, To hold your hand through scary turns, A soothing balm on all your burns. In this role I find fulfilment, An antidote, To whatever, Wherever, With whoever I find myself. My prayer goes out for everyone, We all long to be healed. Humanity's last connection, Even in the absence of love, Is to heal.