Freedom Found

June 22, 2008
By
To him, joy manifest
Was the saxophone.
He squeezed each note out
As though the happiness
Would drip down,
Color the grey swirls
Of life, like dye.
Each moment breathing
Tunes into his instrument
Was one of ecstasy;
He’d let himself be carried
By the melodies, driving past
Speed limits and stop signs, transcending
The borders of melancholy
Until he become nothingness,
A vapor mixed with music notes
that cascaded through
The Starry Night
Air in impressionistic
Collisions of yellow
And blue and
Light; it was freedom
He could find
No where else.





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