A poem is like a sonata set to words.
Transfiguring plain paper
into a divine manuscript.

The poem evolves,
Taking vowels, consonants,
Repetition, and alliteration
Blending them into
an "overflow of feelings"

The sonata changes, rearranges
Into deeply, dissimilar
Dissonance.
Legato, adagio, forte,
All add to its tempo
And birth passion
in its melody.

Words blur together, chromatic scales superimpose
Two themes unite; two worlds collide
like the luminescence of phosphor luster.

The poet and composer
Immortalized by their pieces
poised in perfect pitch.