Poetry is perfected in pain,
Music through the madness of life.
So let your worries fall like rain
With a melody like a knife.
Take your sorrows and your fears
Play them out like a song
Drown them with your tears;
Until the whole world sings along.

For poetry is unlike the sorrow;
Music, much unlike the pain.
Each describe the madness of the morrow
Where melodies and tired eyes are sleepily lain
And eloquent dreams of memories borrow
The magical, maddening rhythm of the rain.

12/9/15