the singing is on the lips of the reader
-as they go their way

(if your song has made its mark
-releasing some-ones heart)

distant stars do their thing
irrespective of our gaze

their fire burns in black
until they too become one with the deep black

many stars have come and gone
taking a guess of course

a hermits candle flame
does the same.

"Physical matter is music solidified" – Pythagoras

You stand there with that rose in your hair
singing that small song in a big big way
your voice cracks and you stare at the air
while everyone else is thinking, No Way !

You once were a mouse with no door
and your voice was a tiny whimper
Today you sing as if your life is much more
than a mere complicated existence, its much simpler

Your stand there with that rose all askew
thinking your a femme fatale, and by the way,
who asked you ?

I have judged my thoughts
and they are no good
they come and go.