The Voice

This is a poem about a call barely heard that must be discovered.

    The Voice

Alluring azure beckons with a soulful Gregorian chant of unknown language,

A haunting melody, a déjà vu’ that can’t be remembered but lies on the edge of memories,

Golden orb suspended in black abyss, with a glitter of diamonds paying homage,

He treads atop the crushed skeletal remains of past citizens of this glorious realm.

He begins wading through God’s salty tears, intermittently being both pushed forward then pulled back,

Ceasing to fight, he learns faith,

He briefly contemplates if he is dying or already dead, or is in the midst of a dream or hallucination,

The experience is supreme to anything he has, hitherto, experienced in life.

He reaches a point where the musical cacophony is much more distinct,

Arpeggio combines with allegro in a marriage of fantasia,

Unable to decipher or distinguish what he hears, its beauty is beyond belief,

Stunned, he suddenly realizes he is hearing the voice of God.

M. McKee
December 24, 2014

Author's Note

I welcome all reviews.