Song Will Shape The Bone Poem by Ian McArthur

(I think I wrote this as a bit of practice in imagery. I leave it to you to decide what it is. Please comment on what you think of it, I may have written it but I've not got any certain idea on what its about.)

Song will shape the bone
and all that grows out from the spine.
Formed in timing of the tone;
writing rhythms on the line.
The heart beats: a metronome.

Rarely is our beating right
always to be a piscan flaw
a twangy string is only trite
some wonky tooth in shapely jaw.
Every note of life, noteworthy.

The rainstorm of our world
drops us each upon the sea
amidst the waves flow soul curled
ripples cross and greet.
So that staccato on the scene
forms our great destiny.