Music Well – Dosia McKay, Composer, Painter, Writer

Reflections on Art and Life

Nothing to Say

Another useless phrase
Another pointless gesture
Another empty prayer
Of a heart that’s running away

And the melody of my first song
Is but a shadow of days gone by
When the faith was childlike and pure
And the love was simple and brave

Somewhere between the lines
There’s still a song waiting to be written
If I could only clear the noise
That chains me down and wraps around me
And slow down enough to hear
The Voice that barely whispers

Another useless rhyme
Another pointless verse
Another empty promise
Of a hart that’s running away

And I’ve forgotten the simple words
That separate the chaff from grain
And I have lost that treasure inside
The secret place where there’s no pretense

Somewhere between the lines
There’s still a song waiting to be written
If I could only find that place
Where my hart longs for things that matter
Where I have nothing left to say
And take the time to listen

©2000 Dosia McKay

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2 comments on “Nothing to Say

  1. m6fan
    January 28, 2008

    I believe there is one indubitable indication distinguishing real art from its counterfeit, namely, the infectiousness of art. If a man, without exercising effort and without altering his standpoint, experiences a mental condition which unites him with that person then the object or words evoking that condition is a work of art.

    The chief peculiarity of this feeling is that the receiver of a true artistic impression is so united to the artist that he feels as if the work were his own and not someone else’s – as if what it expresses were just what he had long been wishing to express.
    A real work of art destroys, in the consciousness of the receiver, the separation between himself and the artist……………..

    It’s as if somehow you read my mind……….to which I could not put to words…………

  2. Dosia McKay
    January 29, 2008

    Alan, this is a beautiful compliment. Thank you. I humbly receive it. On the other hand I must say that I believe that human experience is universal in the sense that we all can identify with similar emotions, whether grief, longing, joy, or pain. We often think that we are alone in the way we feel, but we forget that others around us might be experiencing the same emotion.

    I think it is the calling of the artist to validate these experiences and give them shape whether through sound, image, or word. So if I gave words to your state of the soul then I have fulfilled my calling.

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This entry was posted on January 27, 2008 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , .
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