Notes and Clefts

Notes and clefts,
Not of the pallet kind,
Are a religion of mine.
Those five lines
Those stems and dotted halves
Calm the vessels that house the blood.
Deep red, the crimson,
Draining through the tension.

Take me home
Bleed into me
Just a few measures
Let me be sanctified
Empower me renewed.
Voices dull and emotionless
Let’s hear those chords,
Use your fingers' magic
Your bow becomes your servent.

Back against the wall
Eyes straining through the screen
Composement floating all around.
The fan’s still turning
Those notes still churning
Crawling to my inner ear
Transmit and decipher brains
Command my body
Gently exhale.