The birthing of sound

My companion, cut from the reed
Carved by a master, as Fetiyhe’s orange blossoms
Foretold the sweet notes of a new season
Of Love discovered
I blow into you, and you entwine with my soul
A sound is birthed, our energies mingle
You heal my separation as I heal yours
We learn to merge in each other’s breath
Uniting in Takbir
There is no reality, but Yours
Recalling Yunus’ Love with every puff
Into the belly
You calm my aching heart

Blowing music

From the depths
of hollowness.
Vacant of all but the
only breath.
Emptied of all but
Freed of life and
its pretence.
From that void
within the reed.
Music pours forth
with such force
there isn’t a soul
that’s not trembling.
Not a single atom
escapes the vibration.
Every taksim
a revelation.
Direct from the
Divine station.
Coursing through that
hollow core.
Surging into the air
I breathe it in
I can feel it working
the contents in my chest.
The script slowly
stripped away
with each note
birthed in the
same moment
it dies.
A veil pulled away
from these eyes.
In the pain:
one subtle demise
after another,
creating a blank place.
Reflecting the Face
of the eternal friend.
She takes a pen
and starts scribbling.
The secrets contained
within the abyss
that’s opening
from the centre of
this broken heart.
To the surface
streams of ink
fill empty spaces.
Like breath gliding
through the holes of the reed.
Spilling tunes in the air.
She’s blowing music
right there
in my breast.

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