My Music            by John R. Haws
	There are these sounds within my head that long to be expressed somehow. There are these rhythms in my blood. They move, they flow, with each breath now.
	Some harmonies, some melodies, some transitory phrases, little bits of this and that as I live through various phases.
	I don't know why they are in me, I only know  they are  to Be.
	They come. They go. They hang around. They seem to mellow more with age. They strike the very heart of me with a mild, contented sort of rage.
	It's poetry, pure poetry, this must do music thing that vibrates through time and space and makes my soul to sing.
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