The Singing Bowl

Silently resting

on its plush cushion,

A silver bowl etched

With ancient silent

Prayer waits until

A precise moment.

Gently struck it sings,

Like ice in moonlight.

It’s beauty enriches

The silence by

Elevating a breath

Into a song filled

With longing and hope.

But, when the bowl is

Held tightly, the song

Is stifled in the silence.

And the moment passes

Like a hearse in the night.

- Eamonn Kirke