The music is born deep within,
Strands of DNA entwined,
One amino acid after another
Joined together with the precision
Of the sequenced triple helix,
That speaks of a maker,
Father, Son and Spirit
In perfect harmony.

Just seven of twenty-six letters
Strung together with infinite variety
On lines and spaces between bar lines,
The meter, tempo, time,
Setting the pace, creating the mood,
Making the chaotic beautiful,
Creating sense from no sense
In a language of its own,

Until the lyricist opens the dictionary,
Adding a further dimension,
Unscrambling nineteen more letters,
To make further sense
In a marriage of words
Blended with the melody,
And we sing along, hardly thinking
How this all came about.

January 2014