Overfull fountain,
he rises abundantly
from where springs
are fed, creates from
why hearts must beat
timpanic against
gravitation.
His concerted breezes
blow confusing beauty
in
through windows where
merely walls once were.
Triumph, sorrow,
fire, spirit,
love, joy—
all play and pray
in sonic sanctum.
After the applause
we bring our amazement
home and listen to
the
wallpaper sing
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