Silver Morning

On this morning
made silver by a rain just passed,
and atmosphere brought close
enough to reverse expanding seas,
there comes a whisper loudly.

Words too brittle for the sharp
punctuation of the storm,
but having weight enough to silence the deluge.

And on these lingering drops
that still surprise when they land,
and the rhythm that settles
as drumbeats on my shoulders,
there forms a message intensely.

Words traversing basalt and granite
undeterred in their purpose,
Seismic in their consequence,

Cast toward me
by the melody of that deeper language
that transcribed language,

Vibrating with a resonance
equal to that of my soul,
that loudly whisper rises,
the echoes against the chambers of my heart
reaching every dark corner.

Leaving the sound of accumulated alternates,
the chorus of maybes and potentials,
shouts of negation and disqualifiers

To fall away,
yield to the whisper
loudly ruling over all other destinies,
and glimmer the edges
of what lies ahead.