Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Turnaround

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Turnaround

    Sadness repeats its sickly soft refrain
    Without which Being seems so out of tune;
    I cannot help but wonder when, again,
    Or how, my song will stop, rough hewn
    With syncopated ax by my own hand:
    They cannot, will not, dare not, understand.

    But comes a time apart to hear old melodies,
    Beloved, joyful, shaping new from old.
    White-crested waves roll in from endless seas
    While shells of laughter sing on beaches cold.
    Listen, my heart, to music shared, don't wait
    For relentless themes that refuse to yield control:
    Which each wave comes the chance to recreate
    And orchestrate the music of your soul.

    Boston, MA December 2013.
Working...
X