The Music You Need

Just where the ripple starts to rise
from stillness,
just where the vacuum breaks
its perfectly symmetrical emptiness
into goose bump froth on your skin,
where the urge of your optic nerve
fashions this inscrutable chaos of flames
into a green-gold meadow,
and the mind of trembling silence
contracts black entropy into an 'I,'
here the singing begins.
You learn bewilderment from a sparrow.
Are you the voice, or the listener?
Imaginal wings effervesce
in the hollow of a cocoon.
Are you the flier, or the sky?
This is where the void bubbles over
and you become the juice:
root of Veda, bulb of Torah,
seed of Qu'ran.
You need a more fragrant language
to dissolve the difference
between Lover and Beloved,
and a muskier more pungent voice
to sing the sacred music
of Twoness.