The Mix

The Mix
By Curtis Johnson

Darkness begat light, and, hence the f irst
musical note danced within itself and the

stars were spawned,

the scales of time embraced all touching,
and the cords of emotion spun the planets

into being,

this very song is a serpent's companion call,
the flutter of flocking birds, swirling Sahara

sands,

listen for it in the crinkle cool of the
morning lake, silent yet spoken still, the

night moving into dawn,

oh celestial note which bridged the here and
now, if unvieling myths and magic are

unreal,

then how and who, will write history's

ballads.

TFR Home Page | Submission Guidelines | Frequently Asked Questions | Sign Our Guest Book | Contents | Donations
Workshops | Event Calendar | TFR Background | How to Contact Us | Editors and Authors Only | Privacy Statement

© Copyright 1997, 2025, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 08/20/1998

<script>
(function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){
(i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o),
m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m)
})(window,document,'script','https://www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga');

ga('create', 'UA-22493141-2', 'auto');
ga('send', 'pageview');

</script>