Tag: poetry

It’s been a long time since something could move me to a place of drifting so deep in art

That the hemoglobin in my veins take a back seat to this feeling

This place that I drift in

 wraps itself around me like a strait jacket

Long enough for me to stop fighting and just exist in one with where I am

It envelopes me long enough for me to realize that it’s familiar

I belong here

Justified in the brilliance of notes on staff, I intrude in on the conductor

I am a part of the music, the missing element in the symphony

I have become less of the rest and more of the stem on an eighth note

In conjunction with breathing

I hear

I feel

The music creating a stir in my vocal chords, lost in the beauty of sound

I speak words in tune, not quite singing yet

Some would call it poetry

It’s just the language I speak.

Hope that someone can interpret for the commoners

Or those common to English. This doesn’t have restrictions and rules

It just is.

I just am.

Present in this moment that I am breathing music. I am being music.

The melodic state of being.

Then something hits me.

It is the evolution of a key change. A game changer.

It’s love.

Love can make minor chord clashes seem like symbols

Staccato glitter sprinkled among the staff like the beauty of shattered glass

Reflecting amber light from dawn

It’s a beginning.

Love can color music and paint pictures that even those with untrained eyes can see

Defying logic, love even makes science bearable.

Unapologetic and without permission, it invades space and time

Love is a continuum of life

Opposite of existing, it springs to, in and through all who are willing

For the unable, it disables their ability to analyze until it is acknowledged

This place is familiar because I was created here.

I create here

He who makes beautiful things out of us purposed me for this place

No seatbelts or safety precautions

No limitations of negotiation necessary

I have fallen with no need to feel the foundation of someone else’s ground

I can forever drift here

I can exist here

I can cast my ballot for permanent citizenship in a place where colors burst

From executed staffs that govern many instruments

On the canvas of my eyes and glitters sparkles over the dash

The pace between birth and return

Home.

-PhoenixSole

Special love and adoration sent to a friend whose notes won’t leave my head and the short story “I Wish I Was a Poet” by the late and great Alice Childress. 

Ivy Out.