Aastik Rounded copper, singing a song of meditation, A metallic vibrato, uplifting through sound, The resonating voice of peace. Our awkward fingers Grasp the embodiment of your voice, Attempt to mimic your fluid motion, Instead create black holes of silence, And when the bowl agreed to sing, Short bursts with quiet voice. In your capable hands, the bowl learned music, Overtures and symphonies, an operetta in copper, But the singing bowl is too small for its own voice. It fills the air even after the playing has stopped.


  • Luna Kay
  • Wocket

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