The Moth and the Candle

The blank disc spins, round and round and round
Crackling but discernible the sound pours forth
Voices, raised in anger, sorrow, joy and pain
Steeped in laughter or beset by contemplation

Each voice says something different
But in the same way
Each voice says the same thing
But in a novel fashion
They cry to your sorrow, laugh to your joy
Smile with your happiness and shout with your anger

Living in a moment
A white-hot moment of pure magic
Voice, melody, note and backbeat combine
You listen to yourself in the songs
And in the white noise of communication
The songs listen to you back