The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.” ― Roger Scruton

 “The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.” 

We’re truly moved when music stirs the soul.

 It matters not that we are subject to manipulation:

Melody and harmony console.

And tension and release are real, for seeming real,

There is no proof, no basic, solvable equation:

Music has its human place, fulfils its role.

”The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.” 

And yet it bears some scrutiny, investigation,

Within the Lebenswelt, and left intact and whole,

Not beneath some lens or analysed in fragmentation, 

We’re truly moved when music stirs the soul.

Those minor thirds, descending scales may both control

The floods and tides of sadness and emotion

Such music is the moon, the guiding star, the pole,

It matters not that we are subject to manipulation

Or that others name our claims 'exaggeration'.

Music might encourage and cajole

But we respond with glad capitulation:

Melody and harmony console

There’s deeper truth in chansons sans parole

Than in the truth of scientific explanation
We are complex, much too strange to pigeonhole

There is beauty in the world and in creation

of imaginary things.