look at your staff, the lines you've come to understand, your teachers tell you you're a rule follower and you've never stopped to wonder if that was a good thing or not, there's sharps and or flats running through your head, can you understand what they mean when your eyes are closed?
just listen.
dorian, locrian, lovecraftian monsters augmenting your fourths as you fall, sevenths and ninths cowering in the shadows, major and minor flying overhead, battling for your attention, this could be a symphony but in your feverish state it could also be a sonata, have you ever stopped to hear the music?
just listen.
a breath, one, singular, from a pluralistic orchestra where parts work in harmony, you can follow the melody easily but where would you find a second french horn part, baritone saxophone, within the grumbles of your bass line?
just listen.
the composition comes to a close and there's a stillness in the air as you stand, there's a creak as your legs rust over, robotically you clap with the rest of the audience,
listen as the world fades around you.
what were you clapping for again?
YOU ARE READING
melted
Poetry❝the present was the present, and we didn't even know it.❞ dedicated to kjh and wb highest ranking: #27 in poetry
