The Inner Catch
Sometimes angels sing,
in the melodious,
catch in my ear,
which God hath here endowed,
yet without our ask, or plead,
God did not tell of His,
We watched the torrents,
outside the window,
thinking of our pain,
as though the streaks,
were our sorrows dripped,
into our souls.
Our nervous hearts,
fluttered away from us,
like butterflies linger, and leave.
Please God, don't let ours leave,
for a heart is pure delicacy,
and anything must from it come,
for the plentiful things it gives,
are essential nourishment,
for walking and speaking-
the fine listening of the human ear,
where the fluttering turns waves,
of sound around of purple gems,
in the sea we had never seen,
so precious that we not hearing it,
must miss it,
but if we chance to grace heed,
God we know through it.
The ear can calm the fluttering madness,
through the heart we find its unseen gem,
of unnatural sound . . .
this unnatural sound of God's mercy,
a slight wisp of Heaven he's given us.
the closest peace that we have heard,
the waves of an ocean, perchance, or the waves,
of a classical meadow party.
Time, and day does not account,
and our normal hearing heeds not,
for in this inner catch our best- grace showers,
all manner of what the heart gives,
we, in the rare instant,
are party to-
if only for a minute.
And we renew our heart's flutterings,
before it breaks from pain and working,
or flies away from us,
please let the flutterings take their place in the,
no matter where you hear it.
Or what it is,
I know its there,
for I have heard some of Heaven,
in my happiest moments,
which generally come after a storm.
Do not mistake the inner catch for the abnormal,
lest you consider His angels abnormal,
which indeed they may be,
but, after all, what should be scorned,
what is there to mock really,