Treasure Island

Christopher Saucedo


Inventions


Johann Sebastian Bach

The notes trip upon each other
Cascading into perfect melodies
Divine harmony, like ripples
Fanning out across a still lake
The source invisible, a mystery
Hidden under deep water.

How is this?

If ever I believed, then
This would be then.

Even with the notes, there,
Right in front of me
Black and white blueprints
Guiding me (from the past?)
I still am left empty handed
With only a lingering effervescence,
Ethereal sunlight.

If ever I believed, then
This would be then.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 13, 2005
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