There’s a soundtrack to life.
Its rhythm carries the burden of the bending day
Where the sun’s status may lead the way
Or perhaps a news cycle view of justified strife
Or the unconcealed contempt of a president rife
With impassioned control of disconnected smiles
Covering quicksilver thoughts with eyes hooded with guile
The drumbeat of hatred, the resonance of blight,
The monitor casting it’s flickering light
Beats deeply embedded in the artificial glow
Blocking the colors that through studio floor flow
With the crisp wind that blows through the cracked window so bright,
The staccato dissonance fades to a forgettable drone
Occasional interruptions of angry tones,
My own rhythms are dulled, eyes cloudy, head bows
Is this what life has reduced me to now.
The wind picks up and touches my face
I startle and begin to notice my place,
And glimpse a slight feeling that seemed to be dead
My beats should be quicker, the melody strong
No abrasive dissonance nor pauses too long
From a senator's choral defense and dark logic
that obfuscates thought leaving only the dense
sense of betrayal, dismissal, and discord immense.
Again, the breeze shifts and the light patterns swell,
I rise from my stupor and sojourn in hell.
I must move before I sink into numbness filled with disdain
My rhythm must strengthen and my melody gain
My soundtrack must nurture and lead me to fight
rather than suffer the never-ending night.
To fight for tomorrow, to live for today,
to nurture the spirit and allow me to stray
With a spirit still glowing thought beaten today
and the stirring of flights of creative play
I’ll watch history be made on this terrible day.
But I’ll include my own soundtrack and live in the light.
Look to tomorrow and put up a fight.
My beats will be strong,
My voice will be clear.
I will not surrender to sorrow and fear.