Name: The Rat by timothyhessians
Duration: 2 min 56 s
Description: This is for the rat, that died in my ####ing house....

Both the original classical guitar solo and following poem were composed at the same time and were intended to accompany each other. Both share the same title. Thank you for listening and for reading! Enjoy! : )For Michelle. 

Ipé-Amarelo

That nudge on your shoulder,
That gentle push of the breeze that
Never tires, never falters—
O, golden flower on 
Tiptoed trunk that reaches
To the sky, limitless sky, how you 
Dance and sway to the flow of the 

Tireless breeze.

Your symphony of golden trumpets 
Snub the familiar stammer
Of the pernicious world, the dwellers
That dwell upon the clamor

Of self-proclaimed philosophers 
That know nothing 
And are nothing,
As Parmenides cried, 

“Nothing comes from nothing!”

Yet seasons change, 
Who determine the way
Of even the smallest buds
On their sunshine-yellow birthday,

Who teach them to laugh, to sway, 
To press their lips to the horn and play
In languid harmony with that 
Great dome of dark blue.
Even a passing beija-flor teaches a new tune
		        through and through.

In the mornings the rains provide drink
And the yellow dreamers peer at the 
sun-drenched horizon
And muse on what is beyond it, 
Never to realize what is beyond it,
For theirs is but a temporary stay,
			as it is for each.

Winter comes. Winter comes,
As it does for each, 
And from the Ipé-Amarelo
Drops of sunshine flood the 
Green earth below 
Until all is yellow, 
The trumpets silenced,
The sweet fragrance 
Carried away by the 

Tireless breeze.

Ipé-Amarelo

This is for the rat, that died in my ####ing house....

The Rat

timothyhessians

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