Lilting notes,
Sharp and clear and fresh,
Kept tethered to earth
By no less than immortals
Perfectly mated to 3rds,
5ths and augmented 6ths;

Released into ethers,
Caught by ears -
Earthly, tainted ears -
Trickled into the auditory cortex
Filtered to celestial cocktail,
Consumed as conscious perfection.

Nirvana drip
Into thirsty soul,
Divinity made tangible
By euphonious math.

Is it a first spring,
Heady of beginnings,
Endlessness of promises new?

Is it a giggling summer
Over a mountain brook,
Long and slow and
Infinitely serene?

Is it a bewildered autumn?
Drifting leaf on a
Windy morn’s whisper?

Is it a 49th winter’s contemplation,
Crackling fire
And minor chords that herald
The next long sleep?

Is it the suspended notes
That hang on the edge
Of words too sad to speak?

How do they, in tandem, harbor
All that words cannot convey?

How do they transport
Mortal shell
To the macrocosms beyond?

Oh, Harmonies
And Dissonant intervals,
Fill once empty space!

The majesty of such rhapsody!
Limitless incantations
Of woods, strings,
Rhythm and chimes,
And voice...tremolo concerto!

To extinguish this
Would murder all
That is essential
In bliss.

To join the chorus
Is the reconciliation
Of all suffering.

10/24/2011