The dark notes of a song reach my soul-
Bach's cello suite no. 1 in g major is all my heart howls;
To the moon, the sky, even that stars I've yet to see. Where is the wish the skeptics promised me?
The smell of dirt and wood is a comfort that I have not yet returned to the all too familiar dust.
Still, I know how closely we are disregarded, wiped away, and ignored.
The crisp strings being pulled and swayed in the prelude, the dark notes engulf me. Anxiety rules the sensation of a perfect note, waiting for a horrid and course screech, but it never comes.
Only leaving me with a racing heart.
Once again the scent, the sound, even the anxious pain, somehow all remind me that I am sane.
YOU ARE READING
The poetry book of a wretched sinner
Poetrypoems of places, people, feelings, and emotions. the fluctuating thoughts of someone with hope apart from this life. Here we have the hope, guilt, and the shortcomings of a sinner saved by grace. "I was found in darkness; now clothed by light. My...
