I have listened to the strumming of your song
and the way your fingers move is something I'm afraid I will never understand

the veins in your hands are flooding like rivers
like when swords are grasped and ****** into battle

you fight the air with your songs
and the water with your melody

and orpheus might turn, again, at you who plays for the pleasure of the gods -
yet it is not for them you play,
but for yourself.

and that is purity.

that song is so beautiful
and the strings make me cry
but I forget that an instrument needs to be taken care of too
in order to sound so wonderful.

it is soothing to see them,
taking care of one another.

I have lost so much in so little a time,
I forget this and this and this moment is mine.

I have watched you love
seen you hate
and I know the horrors
of forgetting to appreciate.

and I sing of my dreams
as if they are to be
though I am afraid
that forever caged, I'll be.

the most dangerous feeling
is invincibility

where can blame be laid
if not next to a body
after no one claimed it for themselves?