Whats My writers prerogative?
Can I sing your tapestry of life into reality?
When reality meets my tragedies can you fly with me to
the ending of an eternal beginning and begin again?
Will you sing me your misery until its mystery is history
and not yours? Fr our children will never sing of sorrow or
pain but will rain and thunder their own parades from Olympus?
Will I sing your melody of beauty?
How long can I hold a note that never ends?
When can I begin a story that has never been written?
Hanging...in the air...staying there?
Will the universe sing me into a higher being?
Artists cannot speak of artists things
for our melodies are separately constructed
of subtleties and overtones of
microphones and xylophones but
we must remember we are never alone
for the writer is singing his keyboard into
another vibration.
Somewhere there is a pen singing ink onto
a page and it must be retired, for words are
power beyond thought, yet nothing is
without sound.
...TheGift
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