at first,
he had felt that
everything was going too fast
and that he could only stand and stare
as the world passed by.

now,
his whole world
became her,
and never had it been so
easy (painful)
as before.

There's a white piano in my soul.
The keys are broken, off tone, and some
are just not there.
I try to stop playing it,
but the silence keeps going,
and the people leave.
So I play it as long as I can,
As long as the white ivory notes
should play, till
the quiet chaos is diminished.

As I walk, there are notes playing,
chords of depression, lust and lies,
some of laughter, some of tears,
some of joy, some of peace.
I walk hoping I find the right word,
the right accent, the right tempo
and rhythm;

trying to find the space between  
the world and me.

When I'm about to give up, and things don't make
sense,
before all things seems lost,
the voice
of peace
breathes upon the falling notes.

And as I hear His voice, the voice of praise,
the voice of joy, my broken hands
gets stronger.

As beautiful and as
broken this life can be, as harmonious and
awestruck as the song of my heart plays,
He plays the right notes for me.

and i suppose
               that you are a window—
    playing it safe,
        observing everything
  from a distance.
       (and i suppose
                    that i
             am your curtains.)