life's chorus

the last bit of what makes up me.

music tells a story.

not the pen-and-ink,

web-of-words story,

but a beat-and-melody,

crescendo-and-chord story.

each song is a prayer set to a tempo,

a kaleidoscope of emotion,

an unforgotten memory.

what can’t be spoken is sung

a conversation between those who understand and those who wish they could.

the lyrics weave a net

catching those who fall

criss-crossing and knotting away

at the fears lying beneath the listener’s ears.

a three minute verse can hold a life untold

scream what can’t be heard.

only those who listen will respect the shatter

understand the serenade.

music tells the truth,

puts aside the lies

replaces them with an honest voice.

those who sing carry a message,

try to tell the right story to the right people.

really, it’s about your own story

how it fits itself into someone else’s

like a maze

eternally interlocking with another path.

really, it’s about my story

how it coincides with everyone i’ve ever known

everything i’ve ever touched.

we are all writers,

narrating our own lives,

stringing them together through words of wisdom.

i tie my own knots with my own handwriting

a unique tumble of letters, my own.

only some of us will have the courage to sing out

to reveal

that we are not alone

trapped in solitude.

i chose to listen in,

watch as my story branches into another one’s music.

rather,

we all have wings to soar along the lines of the lives we’ve written in verse

beat out on guitar

whistled through a flute

tapped at on a tabletop.

we just need a wind strong enough to lift us up

and join the flock.