Silent Sonata

Crowded streets with crowded minds,


Reach in deep and amongst the finds.


People; notes, of different kinds.


From the Silent Sonata.



Tapping fingers to tuneless tunes,


To pass the time; waste the noons,


We're curling up in our cocoons.


As we hear the Silent Sonata



Notes on the page, feet on the stage,


Tears of fear, fists of rage,


Lines of the stave form our cage.


Trapped in a Silent Sonata.



The record plays, the Willow sways,


The puppets dance and we count the days.


Whispered to us all, as we gaze,


At the deafening, Silent Sonata.



You see? Like notes upon a sheet,


We laugh we cry, we mourn we eat.


The pipe is blown, the drum is beat,


Can't you hear the Silent Sonata?



The melody is started and so must play,


But let it play through you, don't push it away.


'Go with the flow' that's what they say,


Life is a Silent Sonata.



There are many notes in the song,

Many men: right and wrong, 


But in a soft, sweet melody we all do belong.

We are a Silent Sonata.



When, next your eyes should meet,


Tapping fingers, tapping feet,


Is it truly just a tuneless beat?


That he pondered; walking down that street,


Or is it the song of life and all its sweet:


The fantastic, Silent...