In Orbit, Across The Void
in orbit, across the Void
Don’t play what’s there, play what isn’t there
(I’m being navigated out of this world)
Might tempo also hitch a ride
on the gathering flight of emphasis?
Who seeks maturity
along special paths of pain
to avoid the order of blunt notes?
(Puzzle me the right answer to that one)
Fire out of the fire, smoke
out of the smoke, a woman
who confesses her own delight
Birds quiet after the fireworks
stars almost seen behind the moon
This question, a perennial one
phrased in weariness, doesn't end
when the answer comes
A deep conversation
floats across this dark field
the joy is thunderous.
© 2015 Rob Schackne