Eve of Evening
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Where to turn, oh friend I ask
I chose to turn to you,
if you'd be so kind.
Though I try hard to describe the beauty
heard by deaf ears, fall so short..
seen from eyes so blind.
Invited by a melody from the stars,
a concert of music makers enthralled-
Their numbers standing before me
cast down to Earth for you and I,
swath of angelic voices recalled.
Whether human beings or beings from a higher plain
I won't hazard a guess, nor confess, nor grasp..
yet still I ask.
Oh, but..
if you were there,
if only in this life., a trace.
heard from these ears
heart lightened in my chest
tears streaming down my face.
If you still don't understand, I understand
if you're troubled, please try to see
I'm trying in vain, so you must
imagine emotions evoked in music
a limited engagement, mimicked..
by a lone toad from a swamp.
It's me.
Even now try to recount the magic in moments..
turn away, not from beauty nor music, but strife..
hold onto a miracle, a million miraculous moments
in eve of evening..
in life.
Copyright © Quoth Theraven | Year Posted 2023
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