And in the midst of it all;
Barely audible over the wailing sirens and the
lifeless growl of cars
It splutters and coughs amongst the smog
Blinded by the flashing blue lights trailing past
derelict alleyways and
boarded up windows
Pausing momentarily
to tiredly admire
the wilting flowers throttled against
the flickering lamp post
Wearily
wearily
Life goes on.
I am nothing, but myself.
But nothing. I am myself.
Am I nothing but myself?
But myself? I am nothing.
The suffocating darkness repelled
By the explosion of music.
I close my eyes; I open my heart.
And from every vein and every artery,
Like spatters of iridescence colour
Gushes out the hazy will
To make this moment mine.
I am the lone conductor waving away
at empty seats and dusty instruments
With only the distant reminder
of what could have been
To soundlessly applaud me.
Some days.
Aimless fingertips
Carelessly
Brush against
The worn wood and
Ivory keys.
Crumpled sheet music
Tea stained.
Absent-mindedly I dream of
Better days.
And I wonder where all the years went.
And I wonder where all the smiles went.
Some nights.
Trembling fingertips
Frantically
Sweep against
The worn wood and
Ebony keys.
Crumpled sheet music
Tear stained.
Desperately I yearn to return to
Better days.
If you really knew me
You would cry at my words;
Be overwhelmed by their purpose.
But, my fantasy is absurd.
You will never really know me;
I have no breath to speak
Their purpose shall remain unknown
Unless, it is that which you seek.
Somewhere along the way
I let myself become
blind.
Somewhere along the paved
Empty streets
I looked for the love
I couldn’t find.
