The Sound

Fri, 06/17/2016 - 21:38 -- ahkeem1

The music flies through my ears
like birds flying through the wind.
Swift, fast and graceful
More alluring than the sweet sound of darkness that threatens to overtake me

How beautiful it is to hear.
One day I am a bird.
One day I am a lion.
One day I am everything music can make me be.

The sound renews the day
Freshens the addled mind
It is a mosaic that shatters
into a million beautiful pieces.

The sound is what I crave.
Without it I must wonder who I am
It forms my being
And turns me into this celestial spirit who no longer fears tomorrow

The sound is what I must have
On those days a tundra seems to fill my soul
and I must trudge through the heavy snow of despair
The sound seems to melt all the pain away

As the days slowly past by
I hear the music less and less
As I grow older, the music starts to fade
And the tears start to replace my music

The sound that had me in an extravagant amount of warming light
has left me with a scant beam shining through.
My decrepit hands wanting to reach for where that light is coming from
wanting to widen the space and bask in the glory of music.

It seems no amount of wanting
Will stop the aging of my body
I sit there waiting, wishing and cant believe
That my music is gone.

These debilitated ears
Listens one last time as the slither of music departs.
As the darkness closes in I must let go.
I must let go of the beautiful mosaic called music

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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