The Musical Muse

The Musical Muse,
flies on the wings of the wind,
Through slivers of time,
through places, we've been,
Bringing shadows of them,
back to life once again.

And on the winged, booted feet,
of mercury's quick.

He is here and he's gone,
symphonies wick,
to the candle still burning,
its life through the mists.

The Musical Muse,
Plays the music of time,
he slips and he slides,
Scales,
G Clefts,
and climbs.

Tip toeing down streets,
advance and retreats.
of tempos and beats,
his melodies speak,
with the Dream,
and the Dreamer alike,
that which
He seeks.

Echoes, never die,
they are reborn and reply,
to the staffs and the notes,
He has kept and rewrote.
His melodies new, though its soul,
it is true,
Was born long ago,
like the wind and the snow
and then,
'Twas spilt into them
to bring new life,
once again.

The Musical Muse,
skimming over the seas,
splashing down through the waters,
the mists and the trees,
Like the waves of the breeze
Down unto the grail's, greeny grass.

Now, these notes filing past,
Falling down as they will,
raining down, they do spill,
and our wishing wells, fill.

Then Rising again,
singing their songs, they ascend,
with the Musical Muse, to the skies,
once again.
To the stars in the night,
they whisper,
ring and enlight.
Playing chords and the strains,
of the once was and lain,
and even now, it remains,
it evokes yet, reclaims,
the spirits we hold,
the stories we've told.
Cause he's thought it,
and brought it,
the present sought,
and gotten,
Not forgotten,
we got it.

In rivulets of lace,
Majesty's pace,
whirling and twirling,
Marching and flight,
Visions of Sugarplums,
night time and fright.
Daydreams and Night schemes,
it's all living there,
entwined in the music
and
the magic that's there.
And we hum its refrain,
It's not lost, it's regained.
We breath its sweet lung once again,
as it's sung.
For once heard, it's not lost,
never dies like the frost,
Or the snow from the skies,
or the rainfall it implies.



NO, The music is there,
in the four winds which share,
time, rhyme,
and space.

Sun and Souls,
meet, greet
and embrace.
Like solstices and lace,
designs etched across the skies of God's face.

Swept amongst us from Somewhere,
that only He and Thee knows,
The Musical Muse,
lives to write and compose.
With instruments Played,
by he and God's prose,
The Musical Muse breathes
and believes,
in
these scores
he's composed!

Yes, He whispers of them,
brings their breath once again
carrying tunes in a bag
filled with notes that he's snagged
from all of the skies of those times.
Spilling through our heavens
verses, poetry, rhymes!

Raindrops that fall,
these songs to us all.
That have made people cry
or rejoice,
fall,
and fly.
And the Musical Muse has risen,
again.
He's flown, and has gone
to his home in the sky.
Where the music won't die
and the souls of all men,
rise again and again,
When he walks among them,
brings their songs once again.

To us all,
everyone,
he is singing,
has sung,
all of them,
everyone,
with each note that he's rung!.

Remembered and Sung,
For once again,
He's begun.

We Listen, We feel,
the music is real,
its life's own sweet song

Composed,
Yet, Again,

And He's Gone!

May 16, 1999
Linda A. Copp