In Praise of Cadence

Some words form the songs of saints,
in their geometry lovely blurs of ambrosial chants
that arise, as if the softest sea,
beside a tune of ecstasy.

Still more are the discord sequences
of awkward construct, many narrative joys,
provoking the clever auspices
of reason- please, oh dear, the colloquial
reaching through the prison precedent of the mind.

In the speech of thought these two polars combine
with harmony and a sudden flash
that erases the plain, evokes the divine.

Real words to me belong
joined together so as to heal the void
whose empty silence demands in sheer lust
to hear the world's exulting siren song.