there is the harp of the spine
that plays itself.
somewhere inside me listens.
the acoustics are somewhat muffled
but the essential melody resonates as mine.
high notes for high energy,
low notes for moods and sullenness,
most of the day is background melody.
it is an occasion for me to actually listen.
sometimes it is softer
than white noise can be.
sometimes wild-horses race up my spine,
chariots of fire circle in my head.
there is a bee hive of activity wanting out
but no thoughts save me from the buzz.
if my heart wore gloves while it plays me,
I would get a visual,
but not from the work of soft hands.
what sheet music it reads for authorship,
I have no clue of its original source.
if I were an auditorium or an open site
then the sounds would be more identifiable.
but confined within me,
all I can do is listen up,
hum from deeply within.
give lyrics when I'm heart-filled directed
and for me
to be from within
the chords that play me . . .
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