Impetus

Why is it that we make things—
to see ourselves somehow
or hear the thunder of applause
and take a nervous bow,

to curiously instigate
a novel way to see
how truly indefinable
we were meant to be,

or is it just an exercise
of freedom to express
the need to try and make some sense
from this chaotic mess?

Whatever is the catalyst
should never be denied,
we’ll never master harmony
if ranges aren’t applied.