Music is the rhythm of my soul,
It reaches out a fruitful vine.
Touching my life,
I feel the beat inside, tolling deeply like a tower bell,
It drives on and on, ever onward. (whether by itself, or by
Some power beyond, I do not know) Pulsing, ringing, filling the air with promise,
One with my heartbeat.
Is this rhythm mine?
Or is it something, unique, yet encompassing,
Felt by all? (Are we not all human,
Bound the same to time?) But it matters not;
For it is music in my soul.
Its essence, clarity, like a spring day after rain,
My spirit is with rhythm, it becomes rhythm. (It flies onward, through time,
Taking no thought to where, for it simply is) Whether heard or played,
It speaks peace to my heart.
If I can catch it, just maybe, like the last sliver of gold
Of a midsummer’s sunset, for one moment, (Shall it be in my hands,
Or in my soul?) The joy it brings-
To life, for simple, for complex,
To all things.