I hear the Violins,
Vouching for each trivial,
But fair feature of yours that lies chaste.

I hear the Violas,
Bearing the melancholy,
Your heart conceals deep within.

I hear the Cellos,
Pouring the velvety essence of love,
In my sullen ears.

I hear the Woodwinds,
Singing for beauty, calling for love-
All in unison.

But then the Clarinet disagrees,
For the sheer taste of dissonance.
There,the Oboe tries to moderate,
As the Flute flares up,
Emphatically proposing the passion be mutual.
Then the Strings intervene,
And all play in unison-
The purest articulation of the desire,
For love - yet unmet.

I hear the Brass finally,
With Percussion on its side,
Sounding as though Zeus were to erase Mount Olympus,
Arising turmoil,
Provoking the Strings and the Winds,
Ousting the gentle harmonies,
And ousting the gentle melodies,
And alas! ousting the very notion of love.

Yet,I love the symphony.
And You - are the symphony.
The most beautiful I've heard.

The symphony,
Within these lines,
Is compared only to the most intricate beauty.
For even a single step
Away from order,
Sets the group in a spiral.
Just one step to artistic freedom,
Drags the whole away from the repetition of direction.
But the symphony,
In all its glory,
All its grace,
Is what draws us in,
And takes our place.

Sometimes I am ether.
Sometimes I am aria in full voice,
focussed breath from deep within, no, deeper—
from the centre of creation itself—
my truest self expressed,
I am full to bursting.
Then, transformed again,
as surely as night follows day
I am ether and together we are the breath
of everything, rolling through mighty lungs
in symphony with the stars.
Me, then we,
always breath.

I could leave, but you hold me tight
In your arms it’s hard to remember what’s wrong
I would rather stay forever
So caught up I’d leave me discarded on the floor
You are always in my head, perseverating
You of the ancient flame, you of the bic lighter
It’s like a sickness, susurrating in from all directions
I can’t tell cold from fire

How to stand, beneath the weight of it
You are everything, the explosion of even creation coming into being
I’m lost to this
You comfort me, you come for me
Drink down all the words I hold
My nerves like musical instruments.
And leave me to unravel with the fury of my love for you

It was then that I believed again,
that maybe after the fight, maybe after everything,
maybe if the storm has finished its symphony
everything would be as it should have been

Me, falling asleep, within your arms,
and you, trying to sleep within mine,
and us, trying to figure out whether it was love or not.

I didn't understand anything yet.
I didn't grasp the sight of your eyes through mine
or the wondrous melancholy of your personality.
I didn't do anything. I cannot do anything.

And at times, I fell prey to my darkness.
I further regretted the moment that I knew,
the moment when I thought I really knew

that I could possibly fall in love again,
and you can possibly give it back.

Yet you, as I knew, weren't like the others.
At times of misery, you appeared before me.
At times of darkness, you served as my light.
But I can't do anything still for you.

But even after everything, even after the symphony,
you grabbed my hand, and I followed
out of the storm, and into your heart.

That's when I believed again

Life is akin to a symphony.
Even though everything is temporary,
And our existence is
But a few notes,
Each and every one of us
Contributes
To its masterpiece.

~ j.l.