That Song

There is something in that song,
That can't be formed into words,
Its notes sing of boundless things,
Of mysteries unseen.

And when the music whispers through me,
I hear its voice calling, calling,
To love, to its crescendos and diminuendos,
Beautiful secrets revealed before me.

There is something in that lyric,
A great vastness of sorrow,
Its melody describe the endless things,
Of thoughts and words unspoken.

And when the music flows through me,
I hear its voice crying, crying,
To lost love, to its fortes and pianos,
An anguish undiminished in me.

Because its coming to an end,
Everything leads up to this,
But its meaning slips yet from my grasp,
And so I listen to this song again.