Melodious Fusion

All great ideas are captured by melody's
fragile web and die in it like sacrificial flies
in the godly spider's spindle-tomb.
Melody: it has eight legs, or four, or two, or one.
Sometimes it is like a centipede; the note-plenum walks
on the leaf of harmony.
Sometimes it is like an amoeba under
the listening microscope of tonality.
Sometimes it is practically translucent
in the eyes the ears have.
What must be done is this:
melody must get engaged with ecstasy,
and ecstasy must do the same with melody.
The future of the world depends upon this
congenial partnership.
Without such a partnership,
the world shall succumb to the imperialism of cacophony.
Everything will be thrown to the wolves of noise.