Until next time

[Dagny]

If I turn the music off then the words will come
The ones I want to say
To give away that
Once gone will free me from these pangs of pain
When they are on the page they will
Cease to feel like a 1,000 kilo weight in my gut
That pulls my face towards the ground like a magnet.

If I write down the music
And only the quotation marks are mine
It will all be fine because
These lines of words say it perfectly and
Leave no room for my own
Until the music is gone and they are on the page
Then they are sophomoric, poorly written and ineffective.

If I become a musician then the words won't matter
As to learn the craft
Years will pass
Plenty of time to forget
Other pains to replace
My heart older to break.

 

[herbavore]

^That is really beautiful. reminded me of this piece about music by Mark Strand:

A rough sound was polished until it became a smoother sound,
which was polished until it became music. Then the music was
polished until it became the memory of a night in Venice when
tears of the sea fell from the Bridge of Sighs, which in turn was
polished until it ceased to be and in its place stood the empty
home of a heart in trouble. Then suddenly there was sun and the
music came back and traffic was moving and off in the distance, at
the edge of the city, a long line of clouds appeared, and there was
thunder, which, however menacing, would become music, and the
memory of what happened after Venice would begin, and what
happened after the home of the troubled heart broke in two would
also begin.