Misplaced Tones

'Find what you love and let it kill you' - Charles Bukowski

Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau
Courtesy : The Mag

Part I

For a second the world ceased to be restless,

Between the agonies of pasts and present

an unlikely image passed by. It was not

his music, but the silver in his strings, 

The ascent of a desirous melody, overflown,

Trapped all hopes, gave them wings, made them flow.

The master weaved his splendor upon the unlikely audience, 

The rains continued to totter, upon the stage built by

heavens and heard by Earth, the music was spread,

Between the moments, both the worlds

united in a rendezvous that lasted

merely a moment, but forever in the art

painted and glorified by the gifts of memory.

Part II

The rains never stopped, but the drops failed to carry

The glory of the master, and the art in his strings,

They fell blankly upon his face, he cherished

the memories, while his strings were going blunt.

The poignant love have crippled, the tones dismembered,

But fate shall forgive, because it were through the strings

his totems tasted cupid, his ideas met reality,

His prowess embarked its spiritual journey,

And for once his ears were filled with applause.