The Muse
Where silence is, no music can exist
As long as quietude remains. Relief
Comes flooding in a man who has been kissed
By love or even lust as strong as grief.
When silence is replaced by roaring sound,
That sound we name amour, then need becomes
The notes, the chords, the gaps, the very ground
Of song and symphony. Nullity numbs,
Is slave without a master and his whip.
The universe needs noise. If that commands
Our whimpers, then bring on the raping tip.
Give acquiescence to desire’s demands
And hear cacophony and melody
Break out. Hear strength and liberty break free.