Would that we were privy to the paths of musical notes
that dance and dither around our heads.
Music must be set free to take its course
in clean air, uncaptured frivolous brave,
and when spent, revered praised immortalized.
Music must never be captured or held
perched in the grasping boughs of trees
or lodged, stuck fast amongst dark rafters
in dusty attics
or entangled amongst bristling wires
like a wet paper kite
snagged, repressed, frantically
repeating its pitch in the hope of escape.
Music must have freedom to permeate
the naivety to wander, allowed to drip and seep,
to infuse its listener
become lifeblood, an essence
© Graham Sherwood 09/2018
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 