You will apply a label to this music,
this
symphonic, harmonic delight that I have chosen as
my own.
Your minds will fill with images of rage;
tempestuous,
atavistic rage;
a triumph against love.
I
will tell you instead that we are a community;
a
triumph OF love against any and all
who would
claim
otherwise or try and taste us with their product
or
shine our smiling swaying faces onto the cathode
ray.
We will take the golden coins you have tried to
feed us with
and throw them into the cups at the
fake green land where you play golf. Our love will
scream, smile, and wave
and then deny, outshine
and
outweigh any contrived, distant glimmering sparkle
that you pass off to us as whimsy.