The Grieving have no words
to tell what they feel
what they have seen
the things they thought
to be distant realities
impossible
suddenly right there
in there face
A bolt of lightning in a cloudless sky

So they play the music for the ones
they love
that are dead
Low notes
high notes
there perfect corus
of screaming
of hopelessness
of a future torn

of a Moonless Night
of a Grey Grass
of a bear Apple Tree,
It's fruit now only producing
what they told themselves
and the reality
trying to solve
and comprehend
the other