Read Poem: The Song Line, by Mark Mc Quown

I course through my soul looking
for a shape that I can see
and thus hold on to.

A cello in the background sings
a soulful counter to my search.

A man speaks….Indian
and chants a vibration deep
into the innermost space of my soul.

Well water drops from above and move
down my face as my spirit cleaves
my form and the melody enters
and I hear it.

I….am it.

I linger waiting speechless as the tune
fills and overflows me and now
I am addicted to the sweet harmony which
plays the counterpoint in my life.