Resonance Of Being (T. C. Wang)

Lo, in the world’s stillness ere that pale morn, A radiant voice had blossomed—resonance of being reborn. It had spun dawn’s breath into pristine song, And awakened worlds untold with its luminous throng. Within imagination’s vaults where visions slept, Ideas like nascent stars in hush had softly wept. No borrowed echo nor ancestral flame Had marred the glory of its singular name. Its melodies had drifted as rivers of light, Through silver veils of night to undiscovered sight.