Music – she is my muse

She sings to me

Her lilting voice reaching for the heavens



And yet



It falls short as she aches for

Love – tis heart breaking and bittersweet



It is a tug of war

For the melody

Who it sings for



A back and forth,

Undecided, disconcerted

Forlorn and desolate



Madness, determination

But she is beckoned

back, restrain





Don’t hold back

[I] can’t hold back

[I’m] trying



And yet

[I’ll] fall short



“Why? Oh, why?”

Can one not sing?

Shall the muse be only thought,

Ever taught?



No.



She sings and sings.

To fill in the desire

Of a passion unrestrained

(with restraints)



She is ineffable,

And only in silence

Can she be heard.