I can make my instrument sing,
But not as well as others can bring.
I feel as if I'm soaring above a crowd
Above the entire orchestra,
I can hear myself floating above everyone else.
But yet, there is one who soars higher than me.
I move with the sounds
But they move better
My pitches are in tune,
I can hear them over everything
Until theirs is overpowering mine
Lifting me from my seat
Into a place that is unknown.
My tones struggle to sound
But they falter away.
Like the ending of
Movements in a symphony.
In the heart of us are a set of bagpipes
that blows the beat of a drum
but is described as a hollow organ,
like one in a church that echoes deep whalesong
in the midst of a funeral.
Our mom had rules for visiting the newly departed, lest their spirits attach to ours:
Take home no food, or the dead will hunger.
Wash your clothes, or the dead will wear your skin.
Don’t go straight home, or the dead will follow.
Starved and naked, we wandered
through IKEA and nearby coffee shops
to deposit our lost and beloved friend in a final resting place
before heading home
our empty and quiet home.
The sounds not heard are the most precious we can understand; a heart breaking, a glare thrown, a kiss blown.
They place us in very different feelings and sometimes leave us beaten, and battered... but also in others hopeful.
We wouldn't be who we are without that past and it helps us move forward to better sounds; the sigh of contentment, and the giggle of new love.
Us, being strangers as we are,
it is expected that we remain separated
by the unkindness of our eyes
when we cannot comprehend
nor grasp, how could we, that we both
like black coffee. In that sense,
we are only separated by the sound
of our voices taking the first step
and that, my dear, is the greatest
and the shortest distance
between two hearts that could be one
but will probably not.
I feel strangled by the sound
Of the wind and the breeze
Cause I feel deep inside
I can never be as free
To roam the Earth
Over the land
Through the sky
And the sea
Wouldn't it be lucky
If I could only breathe
A part of what's inside me
Knows I'll never be
A part of something bigger
That of which I'll never see
For all the ways I've tried
To open up my eyes
It gets a little difficult
When there's no air inside.