He spent the summer days composing
at his cottage in the woods
in the wonderful stillness
of Nature's sounds
with no human voices
to drown him
with only
his piano and his flute
he heard all the instruments
With his ears
he heard his music.
Autumn came
and what was written
on paper
heard through
his piano
and his flute
now came birthing out
in full dimension
a whole orchestra
reflecting his
wordless thoughts
and old personal
vibration
covered-up
in the bursts of sound
Who would know
a deeper message
laid within him
who would care
when for him
the deeper thrill
was to hear
his creation
blasting out before him
and for his audience
to know he was inside
the evolution of his field