Solitary Symphonies
Solitary Symphonies


Solitary Symphonies
Through the quiet of the night walked three men;
Three they were, and a hundred patient trees, who
Watched them try to pour fresh colours
Into the quiescent melancholy within the greens.
Melodic phrases they hummed with strange avidity;
Songs which they sang full of life;
But the night was already quiet, cold and dead.
The lonesome grass reeds embraced their music
Like the cheek of a mother welcomes her tears,
And somehow thanked the three strange men
n> In a voice soaked in a painful inaudibility. The men were alone, aloof from the deceptions The world, out there, offers aplenty with a smile; And so were these trees, who watched the world Burn to ashes, and the creations of the Almighty Soil their souls and the souls of others, Reducing to dust too heavy for the Earth to carry. But that night was the night they had longed for For that night, the men who remembered the trees Were men who sang songs, gifting a soporific euphony; Men who had flutes in their hands, and not axes.