Of the chords that hang,
In air crooked.
Raw intent not harmony,
Herein beauty twists...
& sounds bend.
Violin strings scrape,
Truth from bloody ache...
Every note a tremor,
Each breath a break.
The heart dareth sing,
An offbeat tune.
Fractured songs
Are quite fragile.
Thus in this,
Lunancy doth we find
An innermost
Peace.
End
Subject: Dissonance & Peace in times of uncertainty is explored within one's self in this short poetry.
Good Day
