...The Azure Violin
The violin’s azure strings wept softly
from inside of the mind made cell;
musical echoes lamenting
a whole too vast to fill
each and all silenced reverie,
leaving the philosopher’s stone unthrown
Blue guitar minor chord changes,
bent notes phrasing sharps and flats ;
memories gently weeping confirmation
repressed flow of soul silently leaks out
The spirit's currents eddy ;
suffused within spoken verve ,
purging streams overflowing ,
an alchemist’s soul unfurled...
© Harlon Rivers
6.12.2013... journal entry:
"an unexpected perfect storm & bluebirds"
A musician with a wounded wing ...
trying to find the strength to fly.
Nothing fills the void left behind
when we lose an invisible,
indivisible, irreplaceable thread
that binds the tapestry of our lives...
I started playing a guitar when I was 5 and now I have been unable to play in 15 months…but one winged writing has finally turned into 2. I am blessed to( feel/be) mostly whole. Sometimes change can happen so quickly we don’t even notice ... and yet accepting change is a slow process…
"four walls are a prison somedays"…
Writing a poem, while pacing this emotional cage, has me thinking about a quote from one of my favorite movies
...from Shawshank Redemption; Red: [narrating] "I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone."
