my eyes closed...
darkness
--no--
light!
you are there;
all I want,
need,
conjured into one being--
apparition?
disappears into
silence.
then the music.
soft strains,
one violin
pulling a
single
yearning
note
through boundless air.
it grows,
et crescendo,
to perfection,
and the note
splits
into a million sounds,
invading every sense.
We travel
a curving road,
taking circles
into
a new perspective.
Feet tread,
but in guarded syncopation;
no fluidity of motion
or trust
of our way.
Stumbling
slowly grows
just as natural
as walking.
