You never really know till it comes
In light, deliberate and quiet pace...
Then detonates like battery of drums.
And there is no "right" no more, or "wrong"
Just music growing powerful within:
Heart-breaking violins and gloating trombon,
Austere piano and caressing mandolin -
Delicious orchestra of my enchanting dreams...
Then comes reality, who is as always rude
And ugly, and imperfect, et cruelle:
I search to speak but stay forever mute,
I search to hug but end en fête charnelle...
I ask the God: "Why him you chose to spark
Breathtaking music, which I craved so much?
Why was it him I called amidst the dark?...
Why was it him, the one with soothing touch?..."
