My Song

This song I hear is not my song.
The melody is all wrong.
Sure, good things are done
Solid and strong.
But there is no glow,
No blessed gong.

The trouble is we walk through life without rhyme
Trying to create one, through time,
And our definitive dispatch of chords and strings
Are set aside so often,
So something else sings.
Yet nothing is ever entirely lost,
All songs being one (I tell myself, at least,
Through the shuddering whispers of the night,
Through the breathe between each Broadway 
Beat, shoe by shoe, eyes by eyes).
But ache and desire burn like licking flames
Above the mass of sound that beg and peel against your ears
And all you can think to think, is the sweetness of your own
Sound. The sound of your song.
And how they would love to hear it
Poured out all wrong and strong and perfect.
Perfect like you and all else,
Like hawks and leaves.
Like hands and knees.
Hold your note as you hold your heart.
Leave all bare, set nothing apart.
Sing your song. And sing it strong.
And end with no rhyme at all.

lifesong-soundsoundfree verse

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