I watch
you from afar.
Looming like
a shadow
when keys of
black and white seem
more red than a
Rose petal.
Faster than
the Wind
when chords
become the Wind
itself --
pray, I pray
on my knees
by the window,
just to hear your Voice.
Wooden figures talk.
Hooded mist and a
Curse
for every word sung;
can we dance and circle the Sun?
For I sink as I destroy,
and I create more than
I can enjoy.
Them tongues will not have
Words for watchers like
Us.