note

let it be--that

I may have made a mistake

that's ignorance, you know

that's youth--to go humming

your own melody, softly

under your breath

and all unconscious of the clash

and clamor, when it runs up against

another--and two chords turn

upon each other--you don't know

dissonance

until you've heard it.

still--notes are strange

unwieldy things--who knows

how many, melodies are buried

in their vibrations?

how twisted, and arching

the gaps

between the pitches

that compose them?

who knows--but

I catch the echo

of a song I heard, once

much closer

--and I see that

although it twists past me

and wanders in the needles

--I glimpse it in snatches

I see that--

what I heard rang true.