Jazz

My soul is connected to this eternal rhythm,
Pounding away within me so forceful, so overwhelming
That I almost scream to let it out. I’m talking about a feeling,
A music so pure and right that it goes down deep,
To my very soul. It connects with me; it moves with me.
In fact, it’s one with me.
There is no genre or class that can take
My love for this. I get high on the rush of endorphins
As I slap my bass and create a melody so pure an holy
That I weep with my instrument. I live through its wood and steel
As my hands mould to its flowing curves.
What music can do such things? What magic is there
That can take a man and a machine
And from the two create one?
I’m not talking about some stuffy style
That’s awash with form and order.
I’m not talking about some sticky, 4/4 time,
Forcing you to keep to its rigidity.
What I am talking about is love in its purest form.
What I am talking about is a sound
That speaks volumes without saying anything.
What I am talking about
Is Jazz.

~Jonathan

February 23rd, 2006 · Back to Top · Tagged: Abstract Poetry

Zeal

A story about my life as a missionary in Thailand.

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