One of those phases when things take a change Somebody broke the musical range It got set off, disturbed, made from broken ground No longer can I hear the familiar sound. I wish life was smooth and flowing Just being confident and always knowing. Feeling the pick stride across six strings And hearing the harmony it always sings. But thats what makes it beautiful and catching When those notes are perfect and matching. Where there seems no changing, there is some To forsee it is where all humanity is numb. Maybe you plucked the string too hard Or maybe the stiff thread has been jarred. Some thing was cut short, taken out Now the scale exists without. Nothing is asked but to adjust and conform To sittuate yourself to a comfortable norm. But I found new strings for replace A better, newer, and stronger silver lace. We may not be prepared or have control Of everything of moving energy as a whole. Still apart of the moving pattern Our power to sit back and learn. Tightening that new note into its part A new balance and a new start. Everything is so interdependent and timed Like a song written and rhymed. You'll pluck that first sound real slow Feeling that emotional high I want to know. Life keeps moving, lows and highs Hearing and feeling each sound's sighs. If interested in an older peice of work which is probably aged about a year, go to Poetry.com and search up Surname: Curran, First name K. The poem title is Distance of the Stars.
That's really clever.....using the guitar as a metaphor for life... Or did I just totally fuck up and get that whole concept wrong?
