Instrumental

You see the music ...

you tell me notes drift past

as if written in amethyst smoke

with a calligrapher’s fine hand

as you sit at the piano

creating worlds I want to inhabit

You hear the music ...

the sound of the ocean trapped in a seashell

the cry of a loon on a mist lake

the tinkle of ice in crystal goblets

the giggle of a child

the weeping of a heart broken

the sigh of wind through summer leaves

you tell me to listen

and I do

do you hear it? you ask

I do ... I do ...

You taste the music ...

you tell me it’s as layered as an onion

pungent and raw

until you work your magic and it softens

becoming caramelized and pliant

like the onions you devour with your steak ...

you call the meal I prepare a symphony

I am flattered

and glow with the beauty of creation

You play the music like a man possessed ...

you tell me this is the only time

you feel liberated and unfettered

from the banality of day to day

and I don’t feel slighted

because we all hanker for a soul’s pure freedom

You tell me the notes are demanding

and you, their instrument, must do their bidding

until the music stretches the ordinary

as tightly as you stretch the strings of your battered Gibson

until the notes become something else...

something you lay claim to

ktn © 2013



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