My soul heals using the sound of music.
From the bass defining the beats.
To the flute melodies being played throughout the sheets where the music is written.
The laptops that provide the rings and dings while the people sing what they feel and dance however their body makes them.
The trumpets blaring out jazz.
The guitar belting out the sweet sounds of rock.
Even the sound of silence is music.
Every instrument on the shelf has a purpose greater than itself.
Music is its own wealth.
And I am rich.
When my soul breaks down.
And my smile subsides.
Music is there to bring the light.
With music, I see freedom.
Because music in infinite.
Every sound is different.
Every beat is in its own time.
Every melodic canon is fired.
And I am never tired.
Because music defines me.
YOU ARE READING
Words.
PoetryThis is a book I write in to relieve my mind of the horror it creates for itself. Poems or not, they're words. Definitions or examples, they're words. My words. Read it or not, they're my words.
