One day
when I had nothing in particular to do,
I took a thin slice of a book off the shelf,
a scant volume of poetry it was,
with words flying all about
higgledy-piggledy
in the margins and up and down the leaves.

I fanned through the sheets
not expecting anything at all
and there it was —
a line that struck like lightning
illuminating space.
It dashed off the page
and swirled in a fast-paced waltz
around the room,
sending cobwebs whirling,
scattering the dusty devils from beneath the bed.

There came the sound of a cello whispering,
in through the ears,
building in the heart to a crescendo,
then violently pushing insides out,
exploding like a kernel of corn in the fire.

When the whirligig wound down,
self shattered, all words torn apart,
and silence wrapped its gauze around my soul,
I found the slim opus beside me on the floor.

Memory of the melody
plays just beyond my ken.
Many times I have tried
to find those words once more,
that single holy line which shook the world
and touched my soul.

I am searching still.

***************************************************

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NaPoWriMo — Day Twenty-Five: Write a poem that begins with a line from a another poem (not necessarily the first one), but then goes elsewhere with it.

I took a line from a favourite poem (Word by Madeleine L’Engle) and incorporated it in to this poem.  I fudged and did not start with Madeleine’s line.  Oops!

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