<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460448" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0016 Orpheus - or his lute?</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was his listening; he listened <br>to himself; he listened to himself<br>listening to his lute; his lute perforce<br>listened to itself; listened to itself<br>listening to him..listened to <br>the measures of all things, even<br>the measures of mankind..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">space, air, listened to his listening; <br>listened as the eagle made a silent, <br>perfect circle around a centre in its mind<br>high above Delphi that clear morning; <br>listened to the silent cliffs across the gorge, <br>silently ominous in their listening; <br>the stream which trickles down past the carved theatre, <br>cool and clear enough to wash your face; <br>look up the mountain and hope it sacred, holy; it<br>plashes like curiosity pursued, down towards the river<br>which is a mere pencil line at the bottom of the gorge<br>in this so unexpected place; <br>the sea barely visible in the distance, <br>misty with its myths unspoken; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">space listened and loved his music, allowed this scene; <br>a cool air, this morning elsewhere hot, descends gently<br>down the mountain to the gorge, curves past these rocks<br>where a dark shadow here or there<br>could be where the Sibyl listened too.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we thought, boarding the hot bus, <br>that we were tourists; then we looked, <br>became pilgrims; then something more, <br>more like worshippers of the unknown god<br>whose altar we left behind in Athens, <br>silent beyond questions, <br>listening to the space<br>as if the space itself<br>listened to some instrument well tuned, <br>a voice perhaps, silent, powerful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the sun, the sunlight, moved from rock to rock<br>this cool, clear morning, waking<br>clumps of sparse bright flowers, woken<br>again by morning bees<br>who may be unaware – or born to know—<br>they forage at a world heritage site as do we visitors, <br>at Delphi, where still truth speaks in silence; <br>bees who listen to each other, <br>dance their satnav trails, <br>listen inwardly to flowers, <br>to honey, and what else</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460448" data-title="0016 Orpheus - or his lute? de Michael Shepherd" data-description="It was his listening; he listened to himself; he listened to himself listening to his lute; his lute perforce listened to itself; listened to itself listening to him..listened to the measures of all things, even the measures of mankind.. space,..."></div> </div> </div>

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