paradise lostWe fooled ourselves.
For a little while we fooled our hearts into thinking
That it was fair;
That justice was a thing;
That bad was punished and good rewarded;
That the song wouldn't end.
We were shocked into sadness
When the last note played.
And the instrument that held the tune
Was broken sharply over a knee
Before the musician walked off without looking back.
Other players stood and watched with their mouths agape
While the audience frantically tried to glue the smashed and dented fragments together with clumsy hands,
Full in the knowledge that no melody they could ever play would fit the same...
Inside their instruments
Inside our ears
We lost the taste for it.
And the final notes
Have caused a rift between our ears and our hearts,
So even to listen to prior renditions of perfect pieces
Because they are no longer perfect.
This present has tainted our past.
Written in memoriam of Terry Pratchett and the Discworld.
© mjc 08 September 2015