Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Friday, July 4, 2014

Birdcall

There's a song
In my heart
But
I am scared
To
Sing it
Lest
I miss the beat,
Fall out of rhythm,
And
Distort the melody.
The lyrics
On
Tip of my tongue,
The music,
Clear and loud,
Yet the song,
Unsung.
I don't even
Assay to shake off
The fear
Of
Critique and ratings.
I am silent.
There's a song
In your heart.
And you obviously struggle
To
Hold it back.
The notes
Straining against
The chords,
The effort
Enervating,
And you,
Hidden behind
Incomprehensible
Paragraphs of routine,
Definitely tuned out.
The forest
Seemingly silent
Without
Your birdcall.
Sing.




at
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2 comments:

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.

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