Pathetic Sympathy

Posted on: January 21, 2010
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Pathetic Sympathy
By Marc Jan


There is a symphony renowned in the world
for being candid and in complete cadence,
known as La symphony du Soleil – Orchestra
of a loosely known truth, of loosely lucid use.

The crowds hail it as sweet, seemingly oblivious
to any flaw it may have, segued unto the smooth
outlines of life – a paper sail-boat navigating
the imagination of description itself,
blown by desire for beauty.

Wrist watches are taken and returned
at the entrance; even the slight dissonance
of time’s tick disrupts the fluidity of music
and the colour that permeates from it,
creating chaos where there should be only

Delectable elegance, voluptuous reverence,
a mind-bending resonance veneering timeless
bounds – a single grain of sand would pause to
listen, and not get in the way of this majesty,
even if it meant the heresy of stopping time.

The chime that is soon to come is forgotten,
the one burdening the symphonists; the obligation
of telling the crowd their melody is of present ending.
It is here that they, the vessels of this music fall to the plight of their own sympathy,
no longer able to stop.

Stop, stop, stop,
herein lies an unheard note,
that of the flutist’s fingers, who continue to play
Stop, stop, stop…


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