Monday, April 23, 2007

the beat that goes on

You sing me a song
I know not the tune
But the body and mind sway
Left right
Left right

The tune stirs not a memory
But a feeling a joy
The beat draws up a rhythm
Where have I heard this before
Or have i

I know yet cannot decipher
Its is something innate
Yet lost
Perhaps because it is so known
Known to the soul

The beat comes alive
In the hands of the drummer
Each sound resonates with vibrancy
With care
With emotion
With hope and potential

On it goes
Permeating the being
Straight to the root
The root or the soul
The soul or the root
The place where it all begins
And it all ends
The consciousness
Subconscious consciousness I suppose
(or is it a consciousness at all?)

No end
No start
Simply a cycle that goes on and on
Each beat join the next
Each bol alive on its own
Yet realized with each other

You sing me a song
I know not the tune
Or is it my imagination
Is it really something I already know.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Where has she disappeared

You ask where she went
I don’t really know
You see some time ago
The energy subdued
The enthusiasm dimmed
It evaporated, dissipitated, went up on a whim
But wait doesn’t make sense
It couldn’t disappear, it’d have to transform
To the conservation of matter, we must conform
The energy has changed and moved
Exchanged its shape for another one or two

You see glimpses now
Of who I used to be
A little bit here, or there, or there
When you think you see it all
Poof, its gone in thin air
The magic
The joy
Its shifted to a space that’s not so public at all

The energy ‘s transforming
Whirling and whirling
Creation, re-creation can be seen everywhere
The new shape, new face, new image
Each blurs into the other,
The final face has yet to take form

Form, colour, codes and numbers
Shifting and shifting
Whirling and whirling
Where has she gone you ask
I do not know

I didn’t even know she was missing
Or did I and not desire to acknowledge it
Did I see that she was missing
And not know what to do

What point to hold on to sand as it pours from the hand
Feel the texture of the change
Get lost in the moment of that

It was meant to be
But do come back and share
The laughter, the joy, the carefree oblivion
When pessimism sets me in
Do remind me one more
Of those moments of freedom
When something filled the air

The laughter the joy the freedom
Why is it not something we can all share?