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!