Soul-Song

My hand with ease can spread
Some jumbled thoughts
On blank white pages;
The way
My hand can cause cacophony
By hitting random notes
On that piano.

But words and notes seem something less
Than they were meant to be
Unless they have a rhythm,
A certain harmony.

And so I train my wayward thoughts
To follow line on line,
And form into a melody
To please this soul of mine.

evenyet.net/jude