Clutching notes

Chasing the crescendos

The musician gloats

She tells her story

With its many heroes

And their glory

The melody is deep

It chases away the pitiful depravities of humanity

But plots are oft steep

The fools clutch their sanity

Deprived of the tale

They never reach the summit,

They just aren’t cuckoo enough

Ones like me, we fill our voids

Loose it all and sail away

We chase a horizon

Within the melodies

And at last

The joy is ours….. Joy of what you ask?

Oh dear, it is the plunder of the crazy

The happy despair of the hopeless

The best of the worst

It’s so meagre, yet plentiful

That it lasts me an eternity of a second

I dine with the musician herself in that glimpse

She coos her melodies, soft and demented

And that my sane friend is …. The joy!