Being centred earthy,

Corporeal and sensitive,

With this language

Of touch, so organic.

I am entombed in tones.

Pythagorean like, I listen out

For The Music of the Spheres.

And the tongues, indeed

The theme of these philosophies

Of reason and of how things are,

Entangle me.

When ever I am swallowing word upon word.

Their meanings begin to swish and swirl

Amidst the tunes of light.

Then when my understanding

Becomes full,

Like a sponge in brine,

I teach up to touch the stars

As if to salute their magnificence.

I have no tune within me.

Being that I am a rote guitarist,

I resemble a magician musician.

It had been said,

The best musicians

Sit in the audience listening

And understanding.

(c) 2018 Christopher Thompson

All rights reserved.

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