The Escape of Song

The Escape of Song

Just when I thought I was singing,
a string of falling stars, crashed,
in the background of my gravity.
They lit the small creek,
where I sat, like a memory,
softly fazed out by time.
Just when I thought I was singing,
the song heard the stars,
and alerted the moon,
and I was left sitting quietly
in the bushes, and the song sought,
the recital of the night wind.
I could have captured the song easily
and brought it home.
I could have fettered it to my kite tail,
so that it sang along with me,
unmodulated syllables, of where
it really wished to be.
But I was distracted by the moon.
I was diverted by the joy of yellow
and gold, and the silver of the stars,
the way they sang ranges
and sweet refrains, that began to mean
more to me, than a song of my own.
A song of my own that clicked
its semantics in a variation
that never varied.
A song written by heart with good intentions,
that would not be free, not for itself,
not even for me, and yes, it was mine,
but it never had the beat, never held the time
of a pure sanctuary of inner inventions.
Sometimes here at night,
I hear the freed song singing.
It is in the harmony of the universe.
It is in the coherence of the night wind.
It is safe from the square frame,
delivered slyly by man.

Reviews

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Nothing is more soothing to the soul then the sounds of nature singing of peace and harmony... beautiful work again.

[Ed Hart]

my goodness girl, I think we've got the same muses dancing in our yards...what in the world is happening...this knowledge does not stop me from being jealous, or sending instinctual growls in your direction

[W.k.kortas]

I don't know that this is perfect, but I wouldn't swear that it isn't, either. As good as anything you've written, which is obviously saying a mouthful.