Seth Jani

Home of the Poet & Publisher      

(First Published in Shoots & Vines, January 2010)

Today, I sit in the partial darkness 

Softly stringing my instrument, 

And bowing deep before the music 

I await.

This is where it all begins;
Silence around my fingers,
The wind, all whispers, in my ears, 

The grave internal beat 

Continuously pounding.

Is this too where God began? 

Not with smoke or fire,
Not with invectives or rage, 

But with a slow hum inside 

His heart?

A rustle, like wings arising?
An outcry, like the voice of joy?

And did he form in the metaphor 

Of his mouth
That initial booming sound 

Which spread its wings

And sailed down the centuries 

Breaking here and there
Into the hands of Mozart? 

Into Dylan’s bleeding voice? 

Into the sad, side-street sax?

The same sound that continues to sail 

Right into my room
Where I sit
Piecing it together,

As though by grasping a single star 

You could possibly understand 

The mystery of light.