Beautifully Strange

Pluck away at the strings of my heart

as you compose the same old tired tune.

Like a renegade Bach set to Armageddon’s March,

I’ll dance among the flames and ash,

as all I’ve known gives way to endless gloom.

I am beautifully strange.

Like the pomegranate at the end of the unicorn hunt,

you will find me.

Red flesh and white sinew in equal amounts

all adds to the allure and mystery of Me.

I am beautifully strange.

So take your seats within the curved embrace of the Proscenium Arch,

as you prepare yourselves for the soulful performance of Me.

This tableaux is free of farce,

you’ll find no maudlin tragedies played out in stanzas or verse.

The mirror and the spotlight will reveal all you need to know, for

I am beautifully strange.