Pleasant Melancholy
It is symphonic
It is rhythmic
It tells a story,
of love and life,
of pleasure and pain,
of joy and sadness;
a story of defeat and triumph
It is the invisible book
of the human experience
It has the power,
to move you,
to make you yearn for more,
of its delightfully painful,
audible deliciousness
It can deliver you;
it can be your cry of deliverance
It is so mysterious;
it could only be celestial
It straddles the emotions
quietly packing a punch,
but pulls it, only to suck you in
When it hits,
it leaves no bruises
It knocks you out,
into the habitation of joy;
a relief from heaviness
It is transcendent;
a passport and transport,
to the esoteric zone;
the inner longing of the soul,
warping the time in its wake,
at such a pace,
that leaves you transported
It blows in,
from beyond the firmament,
riding the undulating,
invisible crests of space
It is copious in joyfulness,
filling the soulful emptiness;
an aid to cope with the sorrowfulness
of humanness,
reaching deep into the soul,
soothing even the savage beast
It is infectious, but does no harm
It is delightfully musing;
rousing a deep satisfaction,
yet, in it, lies a deeper longing,
for something or somewhere,
fleetingly familiar,
very present, yet very distant
Seemingly desiring to reconnect,
to something or somewhere,
enchanting, elusive, and disconnected
Shhh! Can you hear it? It is music! It is Jazz!
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