Song of the Soul

Something was lost in the cracks

(my trust in truth) --

and I must pull up the floorboards 

in search of it,

for the music calls . . . . .

Crushed underfoot,

I crawl,

hands patting the ground for rocks and

splinters --

but if knees will get me there,

I'll go,

for the music calls . . . . . 

Head throbbing,

heart sobbing,

I clutch pieces of reality shattered --

with these I will build,

for the music calls . . . . . 

Memory sleeping,

only fragments awake --

they keep watch through the dream-infested night,

awaiting first birdsong,

for the music calls . . . . .

Raw-kneed, I shiver,

my hands, how they quiver . . . . .  

But -- listen! 

The music calls.