Listening with the rapt attention of a sermon
to the voices of wandering souls
trapped in the repeating refrain
of cheap melodies more often ignored.

Searching in those fragile lines
for some truth the author knew
before it was packaged
and buried in the sale

Of day-to-day life
that we take for necessity
even as it hardens our brittle bones
from empty motion,

leaving the messy beating hearts we had
to wither in wordless frustration
at the contrast of what should be
and what we know continues.

Still, the slow melody of a harp
can still the rushing breath
and ease the tightened fist
of a soundless, searching heart
with no solution to the troubles.