The Touch of Melody
Feathers stroking the spirit within,
running to the heart in poetic sin,
stirring up the heart with a wizard’s brew,
with old remedies and something new,
softly as is in the early morning haze
and effective as in a fire’s blaze,
stirring up moods and shifting them around,
heated dancing with spirits tightly wound,
a casual assembly of flimsy music notes
and the stormy path as the raging river flows,
a melody that digs into the enchanted heart
or the easy drifting of a sky bound lark,
songs of the birds as the authors of music
running through the stirring melodies so quick,
oblivious to the beauty of what they sang,
a simple art of which they layed claim,
an art that ruled the human spirit through
and gave him a potent force to submit to,
a sound, a dance, and another feeling
as the music grows on up to the ceiling
and the dancer dances to that poetic force,
an ode to that music and its melodious source.
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