All music and memory it becomes. by Stacy Allen

Music is my longing.
The language I dream, but cannot write. I lose it, consequentially.

What if life were like that? What if I could not pause to write and remember?
Would it all disappear into forgottenness?

Or would I learn to sing it,
epically, becoming
Gilgamesh or
Odysseus
as the tale stretched and flourished with each singing?

So now I long for where that might take me.
I bring my voice,
put down my pen.