The Birth of Music

Beyond the binding darkness
Of liminal attention
Stifled coughs
And distant closing doors

A world awaits
It’s release from silence

A gentle intake of a breath
The lifting of a bow
Fingers find their range
Lips kiss and form

To frame that first sweet chord
With zoetic particles of air

A distant pulse
That beats an unheard time
To push us
Forward to a step

A journey carefully measured
In march or waltz

The stream of still black marks
Conceived in time
The code to guide us
In the darkness

To live a life
Within a life

In wordless union
At the birth of music