Hear the chimes,
that penetrating sound,
the sound of wind instantiated.
Harmonious, ethereal sound
released by impact
and collision.
Hear the chimes,
allow their ringing to
penetrate,
a purity of frequency
from which to build
a world.
Let others wrestle with
meanings
obtuse and obvious.
Hear the chimes,
sounds soothing,
sounds alarming,
sounds announcing
arrivals.
The chimes announce Choices,
speaking of change,
heralding growth.
Beautiful, beautiful,
fading as soon as struck,
the chimes call to awareness
and remembrance,
Each tone struck of clashing
forms
soon lost to time.
Countless tones,
weaving, intermingled
so soon fading and gone.
No song or composition
perform these chimes,
just each a note,
each played by chance,
to penetrate these times.
We look for patterns,
repeating lines,
some theme or structured
cadence.
Surely life must be so,
each note a part of whole.
But no, the beauty of
each chiming tone
is much more pure than that,
perfection in the tone itself,
and its harmony with others.
Therein lies melodious Source,
each tone the full investment.
The rhythms imagined,
the patterns random,
the composition pure.
Hear the beauty, sense perfection,
built from sum of
individuals.
Hear the composition
of swirling winds,
never to be repeated.
Trust it, let it be,
this symphony of chance.
The Nameless Spiritual · No. 39 of 48 · Poetry · No. 6 of 21