music is the soul's language.
when chaotic it is unfit for virgin ears;
it banishes old pains;
that go bump in our sore spots,
music soothes our scars. . . .

"shhhhhhhhhh. . ."

music comes unnannounc'd
like unanticipat'd conception,
but like life, if you love it,
music is always want'd

music comes as a silent moment,
forces us to be still and learn
creative lessons in still life
even in broken chords,
music, in harmony...
soothes our wounds.
in pristine hamony

   © 2009 cynth’ya lewis reed
all rights reserv’d