The soloist closes their eyes and leans in to play their instrument,
an intertwined movement as the musician and their tool becomes one.
An ever so subtle look of one who loves to that which is intimate,
knowing the sentiment that was formed now may never be undone.

The dance is bittersweet as the moment has already began to fade,
a beautiful sight with the undertones of a melancholic symphony.
Even though the house lights stayed a lit and the music swayed
the musician could see the end coming of this moment so vividly.

This temporary music spreads out into infinity,
where all is left is the memories.
Notes and undertones that almost approach divinity,
where all is left is the reveries.

The house lights went out, the soloist left gasping for air.
Every delicate sensation overwhelmed but they didn't care.

Imagine, I am sitting
at the piano.
Imagine, you come to sit
beside me-to join me.
And while I am playing,  out of the corner
of my eye, I see the twinkle
in yours. The longing in your eyes,
because I caress the keys of the piano
so softly, and you hope, that
I might, one day, do the same
to
you.
But I am no more than a simple musician.
So imagine this, I can play the piano,
but    I could
          make you
                    sing.

Pick up the brush
although the handle be thorns
and paint with words, or love or tears or rain
paint them all the same
paint your heart or the sky or a thousand other things
paint until the brush is dry and fingers bleed
for you are blessed indeed

Up in the backwoods
Of Michigan, lives the
Traveling man name of Tim.
He's in a band, with a million fans, and I think it is a sin, that he's in better shape than I am, and I'm ******* younger than him.
Ever since he got bit by that possum, he will never be the same again.

unfiltered interviews displaying
for all to see

alluring youth offered drive dedication
exposed their introspective sensitivity
kindness obsessions analyzed
their deepest anxieties

fans of their own with
-ia-ending disorders aplenty to bear
their days shared or stolen
entrusted archives auctioned

camera-ready smiles
inner balance thumbed up to the tilt
album sales to arena wealth
ardor of a musician sold

role models pinned to the walls
hunted market gods

I'm obsessed with these two boys, that I'll never meet.
I love to hear them make noise, I think it's very sweet. 
They changed my life for the good, and I can never thank them.
I'd hug them if I could, say all the things I've been wanting to say to 'em. 
I listen to them everyday, no matter in what way it is.
It could be in my mind as I lay, relaxing in pure bliss. 
They're in my head and they won't leave, it's getting to be painful, knowing we'll never meet.
Their songs, are telling me to believe, but it's getting hard, I'm feeling defeat...

Once you fall in love with
An artist, an empath,
A writer, a musician,
A feeler, a healer,
A giver, a lover,
There is no going back
To an ordinary life.