the pull of a bow on a string is just that–
a pull, and not a push.
pushed music can ring though your ears and tickle your mind,
can tease through expression or alter your spine
but pulled music can make you glow.

it's a sort of art that has long been forgotten by most,
the noticing of the way emotion glitters the air,
scattered particles drifting by, soft and slow
like stars, faint in their flickering glow,
fallen from passing thoughts and floating glances
from gestures and movements and crystalline fingers,
spun off from spoken words
that swirl like kaleidoscopes from parted lips,
brushed from questions and bedsheets,
or risen in quiet steam
from a memory that's been stirred like hot tea
with a wooden stick
or a silver spoon.

with a bow and a string, you can do something special–
you can catch a feeling-star.
you can summon a single speck to dance in your hand
and pull
and watch as a focused strand is drawn out from the mess,
watch as it curves and twists and spirals through the air,
your instrument the loom
from which your feeling-scarf is knit.

and it will wrap around you, warm and safe
it will seep inside you,
deep into the chasm, your empty chest
and whisper nothing but sweet impermanence,
nothing but i am here and
i am now and
i will will be gone in the blink of an eye but oh,
you love me, you love me, you love–

and it will hurt, much later
it will sting and it will burn
and everything you thought was true will go all backwards and bent,
but pain reminds us that we're alive, time is a crooked bow
and you'll know  it was worth it because trust me,
you'll glow.