Such things

Heaven's horizon and a bird upon the stoop,
singing in half-steps or a scale as yet unknown to the world,
upon the precipice of precept known or unknown,
sought in memories vague in their forgettance;

What would it be if not for this, when beauty is great
and in the value of great things seeking the words to speak,
to define a formulaic constant in shades of uncertainty?

I tend not to bother with things I don't find incredible,
and incredulous is my preferred state if only I could stay,
and when music is so sweet I cannot turn away
and holds me in the grasp of its rhythms textured harmonic,

And when the world, so immense in its offer
awaiting but the sound of grace
and the surety of footsteps in finer sands

Would but know only its own price,
which is enlightenment perhaps,

I only wish it could be so -