It’s 53 minutes past midnight,
It’s 53 minutes into the next morning.
Somewhere between nights and mornings;
I have a song in my head.
These songs surface only at these times,
and today it is a sad melody.
A melody that I couldn’t ignore.
It demanded to be written;
and sung –
to unfaithful lovers,
Sad melodies are mostly honest.
And tonight it holds power over me,
keeps me awake.
My fingers flying;
all that’s inside me,
has tethered itself to this song.
With ropes so tight;
all thoughts –
all of them,
in cascading, effervescent and otherworldly beauty;
decide to let themselves out.
It’s almost by heaven’s decision,
that the song is a shout,
a thing of beauty.
The likes of which could take over the world,
and make men weep.
For joy and hope,
but mostly for the beauty.
Because men seem to love things of beauty.
This song was just that.
A thing of beauty.