She speaks in music
the contents of her soul.
Her feelings, her wishes,
as liquid sound she pours them all.

A bright star with a tail of light,
the firefly swims at night,
her soul, a silver knife
cuts the darkness, spreading life.

I fly, feel, breathe, and drink;
in the liquor of her being I live.
With her music I intoxicate my heart,
With my music I intend to reach her heart.



Space Oddi-ty said...

Her soul becomes the gift
of the rhythm of her heart,
turns into voices
turns into gossip
the feeling, no motion
the emotion, seems nothing
seems, here
the past, the present
that goes before her mind