Perpetuum Mobile
It starts slowly, softly
Then, a musical phrase chimes in
It is steady, regular, and embodies a dream, before that dream has been spoiled by reality
And the music changes one
The rhythmic, steadfast tones inspired awe
They open one’s eyes so that one can see forward into the past
Melancholy nostalgia rises from the gut
And one gets lost in the music
It brings one back to summer days
To lemonade stands, when three dimes made one rich
Getting up on Saturday with a bowl of sugary cereal and morning cartoons
To life
And it tells of all that is gone
But the memory lingers, like wine on a white tablecloth
Yet it’s perpetually moving
Never staying long enough
But the notes that one craves
The sounds one begs for
Come back to play
They are forever young
Years pass, smiles get lazy, tears fall
Who picks them up from their grave?
Not a savior, not a slave
A song, a melody, eternally poetic
It never satisfies, but one comes back for more
And each time, they leave feeling sore and broken
Filled with regrets,
Why does one come back?
The faster one’s fist closes, the faster it gets away
The more it leaves one standing, waiting
The closer to perfection it is, the harder it is to listen
It embodies what one hasn’t done, what one misses
And it leaves, not sorry it didn’t stay
There are children with innocent minds, willing to embrace its pace
And one stands there, jaw open, heart stabbed
It’s perpetual
You are not.
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