Klavier. Geige.

Waldhorn. Pfeife.

In any other language,

Its sound would be just as sweet.

And sad.

My lifeline to reality.

Simple, sorrowful,



Tumultuous melodies crash together

An orchestral tide floods out

the unadulterated vulgarity of life.

A pure monophony resonates

And clears the cobwebs to reveal

A heart still beating



Memory of emotion long past,

The brass declare the beautiful

Stories of a life worth living.

The pipes galvanize a

Weary soldier to march on for

King and country.

A quiet lullaby to

Calm hidden fears

In the dark.


Defiance of racial aggression.

The seething consternation

Against the violent perturbation of justice

In our loose affiliation

With humanity.


The power to tear down governments

and massage the deepest wounds

of the soul is not lost on the soldier or minstrel or slave.


A thread that ties

the tapestry of culture

together. As one voice

many celebrate the

exuberance of life.

In one voice lament

the bitter agony of life



All people, all places have it.

And neither can I live without it.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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