The clear song poured forth
because it had to,
making no attempt
to fill the proffered goals
of artistry and excellence,
oblivious of any frames of critics.
It overflowed all their lines;
they were amazed
and put forth praise
and tried to hold it up
as the new standard.
But it kept coursing forth,
forever free,
forever unimpressed
by what the pundits said.
Clear song of being —
creating its own perfection
in every melody,
in every chord.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2013