Melody

Close your eyes, the music will still play

It leaves your fingers to become surreal company,

Distinguished entity to join your lonesome hands

Connected to smooth machines of mystical ability,

Who created this perfect formulation, who decided

They could bend the trees into sound that pleases,

Almost deity, the physicality of this transformation

From an obscure language across creased pages

Into human flesh that surprises itself with each

Melody emerging, the tangible portrait of identity,

I have seen the numbers, mathematical proofs,

Neuroscience explanation of the fascination simple

Notes compel within our wired heads, and yet

An essence incontrovertible, unnamable emerges

From the fluttering cocoon of my dancing bow,

Why else would I set down the phone describing

What is irrevocably lost to sit down before inanimate

Keys and play the first melody I remember, this song,

Springing from me as if cued as messenger, the act of

Creating draws me back into humanity, into a peace

Of listening, letting this fantastical creature comfort me,

Haunting ghosts of imagination, when one note vibrates

We can hear the harmonic chords, the invisible presence

Of sequences falling into place, the periodic waves

Deceiving brains into believing an excess noise, invaluable

In this world of excess noise, I find words unnecessary,

Because I can envision infinite, self realized expressions

Within this peculiar cacophony of unknown reality,

Speaking inaudible secrets of unequaled capacity, Chomsky

Would find, I think, this wordless language lies as inherent

In our nature as vocalization, the personification

Of ancient harmony, constant in inconstancy, I cannot

Fathom what you hear, but I hear compassion, silence,

A universal will to share the possibilities of this, of any melody.