There are ten sounds that echo
From the beating of my heart, that
Vibrate through the known world,
Return to me and I know not where
They have traveled. There are
Ten rhythms that lo, I have heard
In my walking through this life,
And I can never forget that I have
Heard them so, for they have
A beat to which my soul dances,
They have a beat to which my
Spirit has sung. There are ten
Colors of this vision I have had
Of love: there are black and white,
And eight colors in between, but
Like a dream, the colors I can
Never quite place in the spectrum
Of those I know, and easily do
I forget what exact shade they
May be, or have been. There are
Ten destinations in this journey
Through this life, that I have gone
And returned from, and each is
A beginning, and each is an end,
For these are ten places each called
Home, a quiet that is unmatched
Even in the silence of a multitude.
There are ten dreams I have had,
One following the other, in a story
No life has ever lived, that all
Have dreamed without knowing
That they shared these aspirations.
There are ten poems, only one
Of which may be told, the least
Sephira: this poem tells of such a
Poem, and perhaps you heard
It once, as a child, when all the
World was new, the sky above
As wide as your imagination?

- John H. Doe