My heart was made for music, and its beat
is not the only thing that makes that clear:
my life’s a composition I complete
because its steady rhythm keeps me here.
Like Francis, I would be an instrument
for Love to play a melody through me.
My beating heart reminds me I am meant
as movement in a cosmic symphony.
Although my heart does not sound like a trumpet
— a piano — or a flute — or violin —
I can make music as with every pump it
lets me keep playing for the world I’m in.
My heart may be a pump that’s made of clay,
but I’m an instrument for Love to play.
Artwork: Heart of Music, by Jake Weidmann
Mario A. Pita