When The Windchimes Sing No More

When The Windchimes Sing No More

When the wind chimes sing no more,
'twill not be the wind hath ceased,
rather the hearer is not listening.

When the birds have stopped singing
and the ravens cry no more,
When the waves of the ocean stop crashing,
'twill not be they who have ceased their tunes,
but rather the hearer is not listening.

When the sun's rays have stopped warming,
and the moon brightens the night sky no more,
when the flowers stop blooming, and the grass
ceases to transform into soft carpet,
'twill not be they have decided not to perform,
but rather the watcher is not watching.

When the salt in the air can't be tasted,
the sweetness of fruit has dulled,
and the bittersweet flavors of life itself
hath escaped our attentions,
'twill not be they have changed,
but rather we have changed our focus.

When the flowers emit fragrance no more,
when the redolence of the earth hath vanished,
when the sun's bright eye hath dimmed,
and the soft rain seems to have evaporated,
'twill not be they have gone,
but rather one isn't looking quite far enough

For within our own realm we see what we want,
hear what we choose, smell only our physical surroundings, taste what we focus on, and feel,
but only as far as our bodies can reach.

What we choose to hear emotionally and mentally,
lies within us, in our infinite library of memories from whence to choose good, bad, happy, sad, or sometimes nothing at all.

"Nothing" is possible.

Vicki Lynne Wisecup, 3/25/01