The Singing Man

When he walked by,
it seemed the singing was emitted,
not from his throat, but
from a globe of sound around him.
A radiance soft with simple song,
walking along with him.

From one of his hands
dangled  a long white feather.
It marked the air
as he walked his measured pace,
neither quick nor slow,
the singing man not young or old.

Day one, it was,
of the brand new year,
to the Toltecs a whole new sun.
He showed the change
of things to come,
the tempering of energy.

The singing man,
gender-free and self-contained,
his presence full and courteous,
a being I’d aim to be.
On day number one of the blessed new year
he walked on by like a sign.

©Susa Silvermarie 2021


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