The Infusion
Music with arms that never let go,
a mixture of power and tears,
of passion and the running of passion,
the flowing of the river of the spirits
winding around the chordal banks
as the language of the Gods,
streaming from heaven
from the highest peaks,
of supple mountains and mystic cliffs,
of angelic hideaways and secret caves,
of echoes that sing and sing and sing,
melodies wandering from door to door,
and remain glued to the heart enthralled,
an infusion from the donor to the recipient,
a remedy for the callous heart,
an invitation to the dance of the effervescent,
the stirring of the wild nature of man,
the kindly beast that awakens with the call,
the divine ladle that brings heaven to him,
the casting out of the fears and inhibitions,
the melodic stories that give him strength,
the flight of the phantoms,
the troubadours unseen
that carry the melodies on their wings,
that enter his heart and cling to the walls,
that remain even though the song has left,
the divine taste of heaven
that lingers on his lips,
the sweet magic that remains a mystery,
a compelling story that won’t let him go,
that takes up residence in his heart,
an infusion of the spirits of the Gods,
an ode to the pleasure
that the music hath brought forth.
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