The Language of Music

The Language of Music[1]

The language of music, so profound, so primally direct, so powerful.
We decipher it in our souls and it echoes in our hearts and minds,
almost perfectly intelligible.

 Beats and rhythms powerful enough to take control of our bodies,
swaying and swinging us about in patterns
we only think we control and understand.

 Was music the language lost at Babel?
Has it refused the order to release its connection to us?
Does it wage an insurgent’s war against the cruel deity that sundered us?

 Perhaps, strong enough to disobey that unconscionable command
it bides its time in a passively feminine manner sending us melodious hints
from that other dimension where emotions dwell.

Letting us know it’s still there, caring for us,
crying as it watches the turmoil we suffer in our damnation,
discretely easing the careless curse of incomprehension
at the heart of all our travails.


[1] © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Ocala, Florida, 2008; all rights reserved

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