Ancient Tunes Belong to All

Image: Surreal Design With Old Bearded Man

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Ancient Tunes Belong to All

As soon as you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the trees, then attack, for God has attacked in front of you to defeat the Philistine army.” —2 Samuel 5:25 Common English Bible

—for the bearded buffoon who tried to claim a common phrase

Listen, you bearded buffoon—
You do not own these words!
Trees grow tops without your consent.
Their branches dance in the wind’s embrace
And antiquity testifies to refute your claim.

Screech out spittle, screw your face into a rage
Still the timbre of your voice will prove you lie.
The little drummer boy in the leaves
In the tops of the trees never heard your name.
Doltish bluster lands into the mold bin of history.

Holy echoes vibrate through bark and root,
Through networks underground growing
A whole world you cannot lay claims upon—
You cannot possess what you did not make.
You cannot buy a deed to the ineffable.

Divinity is sifting through the tops of the trees
Wild and free unblemished by your vile bile
Taking no note of your territorial marking.
The breath divine is rustling the branches
As sap continues to rises defying your howl.

So pitch you hissy fit and boil your brain—
The tops of the trees will remain unscathed
As they catch the wind and sing
Their ancient tunes—tunes that belong
To all who pass by with an eye and open ear.