Poetry

The Singing Bowl

The mystery is safe (and sound),
A note that’s made by circling round,
Unleashed to fly beyond the ring
Unseen yet clearly lingering.

‘Tis alchemy: on metal base
A wooden mallet tracing space
Makes golden song spill from the whole
To wake my soul, the singing bowl.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.