A String of Major and Minor Thirds
Every horizon of every picture
Is followed by a somber mixture.
Every sunset of every novel
Is accompanied by bittersweet sorrow.
It’s a string of major and minor thirds
That warble softly like love-sick birds,
That dance a quaint waltz until conclusion,
Closure, consonance, resolution.
But every achievement of every dream
Turns to rude awakenings.
And every end to every existence
Fails to close the dreary distance.
How I long for such an ending
With the horizon forever pending.
How I long to watch the sun set,
To leave this world without regret,
Immortalized for all eternity.
The black screen ends all adversity,
Accompanied not by a song with words,
But a string of major and minor thirds.