There is a silence that muffles sound
  or is that just the wine
I tuned my guitar but
  it still sounds odd to my ear
The strings are hard and cold to my touch
  and I wonder how they can sound so warm when played
Giving myself over to the falling darkness
I sit with only a candle lit,
  a single candle on a cold evening
  too early in spring to be warm
and I let the evening wash over me
like an icy stream in a rocky mountain pass.

I am lost but it does not frighten me
the path is hidden and perhaps forgotten
but I am not sure I want to find it again.
Instead I let my fingers touch the strings and
listen to the tentative notes
as I become empty and quiet
adrift and without fear.