On Hearing Music

[jazzy_dave]

Seashell floats upon the shore and
Life is drifting by
A deafening roar
like a broken ship on the waves
of the cosmic ocean.

The sound is standing by
At perception's door
Cymbals dance like flies
Saxophones wail as the march
Of time is broken.

No mere rubato of incidence
Can shatter this emotion
Shards of percussive desire
Cannot extinguish this musical fire
That we musos call jazz.