A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

THE SUNDAY BELL

Insistent,
Measured,
Calling coherently,
Amidst the clamour,
The traffic,
Scavenging gulls,
The helterskelter scattering,
Of minds,
Intent on tomorrow,
In beats of silence,
Little corridors of calm,
The Sunday bell,
Lone, yet firm,
Points to aspiration,
Heeded by few.