Violin

Sometimes
I feel myself
seperate
from my body.
My fingers,
as I stare
in amazement,
are strange
to me, now.

What I am
resides just
behind my eyes,
and looks out
to see the world.
What I am
pushes outward
constantly,
wishing to
escape
and fly up
into the
calling stars.

The music
of the night
yearns
to pull me in,
playing
my soul
like the
sad strings
of an old
violin.

I glance
around me
to see,
but only I
am swaying
to the sweet,
mournful melody
as it swells
this humble heart
to bursting.