I will sing sadness and malice
In notes of grand dissonance
And sentence the lines to infinite refrain
In life, the intangible, malleable music is soul
And the cold, rocky world’s the brain

The chords will be fingers that fret the great spans
Of time and times after and mourning and laughter
And they’ll float to God’s ears and he’ll sigh sweet surrender
As master’s creator dances to the tune’s master

To the last little legato, sweet words with no meaning
Will swim to the membranes of jellyfish feeling
And swing to staccatos as sharp as fresh carrots
Then falsettoing under a stampede of ferrets

I hold notes like stained glass in the pitch of fresh rain
In the key of the keyhole and the measure of pain
And in the thirty-ninth verse, I shall quietly entertain
The fine-folk with loonies and the loonies with the sane

I shall tattoo on my hands the soft steps of the dance
To be stepped when I sing of a winter romance
To no leaves and dead trees and a white wasteland wide
With a well-lighted level where the invisibles hide

I will sing sorrow.
Disappointment.
Agony.
Lies.
I will with my arms span the expense of eternity
And grasp the distant stars as if they were Christmas lights
And hold them to my ear, harmonizing with their
Melodious hum.
And from this, I shall tap the beat of my heart
The voice of my mind
The lyrics of my soul
And create before you a piece which will fabricate reality
Into a paradise of symphonious bliss
With, perhaps, and undertone of longing.