while I'm at it, here's this one too

It’s like a different language
Unspoken…
Expressed soul to soul,
Not in words, cliché phrases,
Known as color is known
Then labeled, cast in metaphors and chained to the page,
We meet the challenge
Of knowing without the mind
And sensing without emotions.
The senses of the spirit may be stifled
But still we know. I know.
I recognize it.

It’s like the wind, the wind, the wind.
It plays, it roars, it weeps, it whispers.
It can’t be stopped: it will not cease,
Not ‘til the sun melts from the sky.

Some songs ring with longing
For something… something always just out of reach, out of sight.
The notes resound as if by lingering long enough
They might catch sight of it:
This thing that’s lost and cannot be found.

Anthems speak to triumph, glory:
The undertones of deeper notes give way
To bursting melodies, exulting o’er and
Coming on full force, impatient and exhilarated.

Drip-dropping effortless notes,
Movements to delight.
At times rushing in cascading scales
Up and down, twisting and bending,
Sometimes light and airy
For those moments when the clouds are the only things moving.

Always always there is harmony
Always one beginning tone
Until others join in chorus
Join in one accord.