Synethesia

A painter drags his brush across the canvas just like
a conductor waves his baton just like
a dancer moves across the stage just like
a magician casts a spell:

With a deliberate movement, you are drawn into another world,
you are seductively pulled into a sonic landscape, and
you can almost hear what's on the other side of the painting.

It's almost too good to be true, because almost as soon as it began,
the performance is over,
and you are drawn out of the marvelous.

But when you leave, you just might feel something quite odd.
As you leave, you just might look around and see
that the sky is a different shade of blue than you remembered,
and that shade of blue looks how a clarinet sounds
and that clarinet sounds like a dancer moves
and that dancer moves like a brush across a canvas that spans the world,

A painting of delight and dissonance,
of harmony and chaos,
of improvisation and contrast,
of grace and violence
and movement and shadow
and energy and life
and creation and perfect imperfection.

The world is a beautiful mess of color and sound,
a painting of synesthesia.