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.