Relentless,
Pulsing, pounding,
Electronic beat,
Floods my ears,
Rattles my chest.
Give way to a gentle melody,
Trickling smoothly from a guitar's belly.
Such sweet symphonies coaxed forth,
Persuaded to exist by roaming, calloused fingers,
Guided by a broken heart.
Repetitive,
Vain, vulgar,
Empty words masquerading as beauty,
Knock about in my brain,
Drowns out thought.
Give way to a soothing croon,
Spewing forth from a singer's heart.
Such sweet symphonies composed of,
Inspired by pain from a gaping hole,
A wound in his soul the shape of failed love.
I am sad for him,
This lonely poet,
Guitar his only friend.
And yet,
His lover's lament heals my soul,
And that is the miracle of music.