A Poem About Music

Floating on a rhythmic sound,

wordless notes making air profound.

Melodies and cords can confound

lonely souls caught in their surround.

A simple honesty I’ve found

within each beat so slyly wound

in passion’s tether; wrapped around

liquid music in which I’ve drowned.

Such joy to feel my body dance.

Every beat creates a chance

to redirect some age old trance

that claims each year another lance

and calls its victims happenstance,

but never gives a second glance

when lonesome hearts find resonance

within their own subdued romance.

My molten heart beats out its wound,

supporting life still too untuned.

Daring rhythms have me marooned

within a truth I’ve not assumed.

Why do I feel myself so doomed

if I must live my life resumed

now I have witnessed tones untombed

and wilted melodies regroomed?

Music frees a soul caught by blue

and helps it see the world more true.

I want to play along with you

no matter what you’re going through

the way that good friends often do;

perhaps discover something new

like how to catch the morning dew,

a magic drink said to renew.

I’m tired of dealing in words.

I have been making them my swords,

within a house of falling cards,

with no future to move towards.

I want to leave behind the hoards

who keep declaring their own lords.

I want to forfeit all rewards

and find release within your cords.

Echoes return from unknown ends,

a secret mystery time defends;

still what we hear often depends

on what our hidden past contends.

We live our lives as fear commends.

Our thoughts get locked inside our trends.

We strain out sounds until life lends

some credence to what logic sends.

Some pay one thousand for a frock,

yet never sweep their own front walk.

They crave a life without tick tock;

all fighting over private rock.

I want to dance beyond the talk,

and take a chance beyond the squawk,

reorganize the human flock

to recognize a fledgling hawk.

Ego is hard to understand.

Each lonely world caught up in sand,

endless currents and complex strand

fearing new routes that find no land,

and feeding truths that sometimes band

within illusions darkest hand.

I crave a life much more unmanned

to challenge what my past holds grand.

Every so often we meet

a person who fills us with heat;

we sense rhythms we can’t repeat

and inspirations they complete;

that’s when we crave our lives more neat,

please bring our visions to our feet;

but life’s no ordinary treat,

containing pains all too concrete.

I’ve writ until the final strain.

I’m not quite sure what thoughts remain.

I’m never sure what poems gain,

yet still I love their lost refrain.

I know they’ve taught me to retrain

my thoughts to feed on living grain.

I hope that humans can live sane.

Life’s dance a salve to sooth their pain.