Instruments of the Devil

Feet slowly frozen by arctic wind,
Hands burned by desert sirocco,
Electrical storms of the burning sun
Played out along toes and feet,
Rippling through wrists and fingers.
This is the cacophony of PN.

No nerve is too small or hidden away,
To be missed by the orchestra of pain,
No activity too important,
To be ignored by these performers,
As they practice on their instruments,
Preparing for their great symphony,
The famous Hades Symphony.

The body is a temple, they say,
The temple of God.
I wish these musical maestros,
Would remember that holy precept,
And move to the bloody Sydney Opera House!
Leaving me to be the temple of God,
And to the real world music that I love.

Lynne Hurry, © November 4, 2003
alacrity@sympatico.ca

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