(Written, 1.
March, 2014; St. David’s Day, Patron Saint of Wales)
The Intrinsic Music
The Intrinsic Music
The un-sectioned
music stringed and winded
Melts its way
all through me
Its score
written in milk and sweetness
Seeping through
all its calls in liquid honey
Lyric meanderings
amidst everything I see
The grass, the
trees, the sand and sea are all made of it
Like a
painting’s shades in soft shadows set
Every entering beam
finds its own ending in peace
Un-thatched words weep in centered lines
Deciphering dots
of blood in black squiggles
Veins red and blue
reach the recesses of my heart
Tides of his music
flow in and out in secret prayer
Breaking
melodies mix with the breath of kings
All conquerors
of selfish living their flow salivates
David’s written
score flies through all their waterings
Making of their
Arthurian death a thing of delight
One sword, one
stone, one accepting of offending truth
And my inner
giant slain – my own red dragon in me
The music that lifts
the beauty, slays the heart to find its life
Making of its
smallest weakest offspring an heir
Like the parts
of heaven its notes and symbols
Undeserved the gifted
music finds its own owner
Dark hollows in
the sand the magic footprints left me
Holders of David’s
writing in the black ink of his music
The sepia hungry
come and seek the lively measure
But how can they learn the songs that cannot
be heard
What lovely spreading
thing will satisfy the harp
But the plucking
of its life taken to make its music
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