So We Danced to the Musical Metronomes
That magical evening… We have our heartbeats synching with the modified sonic tapestries. The floor is well polished and you could never tell that this room is the resting ground for… …Young scholars. Who would have known that the new atmosphere would be yards away From the campus common and old cathedrals of stone and green? God you look so beautiful tonight. I’m glad you saved yourself from the potential fate of being carved up and served To those gourmand bastards that simply love the taste but never savoring it. Anyway, you look dazzling With your face radiating in this clubhouse. My hands find themselves on your back, gently supporting it And telling you that I simply want to hold on to reality, before the music makes me slip away. That man is still pounding away on the keys, systematically but gracefully. He knows with lightning speed, the mood he wishes to create this night. The stars tell me and the notes convince me that this is the moment. What’s that you say? There is something that drives you to another place? I don’t know if there is something in your hands that tells me but I think it is in your eyes. That smile ceases pain and gives me when I notice your breathing and the feel the blood rushing. Your hands force me to look and stare into those eyes. You examine me as if I was a newly discovered treasure, unearthed for all to see. So we move our way through the dance floor. We entered dark halls, where the ambiance is still same but the elements promoting it Have been reduced to the simplest denominator. We still stare into each other’s eyes and the music is ever-present thanks to wired systems. The subliminal messages are obeyed and we kiss ever so passionately. And soon, music, art and love all beautifully merge in unity and harmony. It is all about mixing and blending paint. First, it is a delicate and timely process but when the picture is realized, You rush forth and are absorbed in the moment of artistic enlightenment. The masterpiece is unexplainable by prosaic reason But the language of poetry speaks it very clearly so only you can understand And others can catch a glimpse. It is body art. It is art that never satisfies the eyes of orthodoxy. It is to be enjoyed by the believers and embraced by those who are willing to do so. The ethereal cosmos is still present in my head When I savored the milk of Hera and you delighted in the pomegranates. Thank you for injecting life into me that night… when we danced to the musical metronomes.
Date of First Draft: 24 October 1999
Inspiration: Blur's "Beetlebum (Moby's Minimal House Mix)"