play, violin, play your notes inside my soul
my ears have grown weary
and glad were the things in my memory
they gave me pleasure and pain, lifted and dropped
they proved to me i was alive
you who are lost must learn to climb
for in the effort is a freedom to desire
a charge that builds from unmet potentials
to fall from the sheer face of the world
into the depths where meaning broods
as time unfolds like roses
fire to be known as kith and kin
the miracle waits patiently for one quiet moment
where the tumblers of fate engage
to awaken from an infinite sleep
breathe: there is no now but now
what have you sown?
what shall you reap?
the violin forgets the tune
and for once listens for where it must fit
as time unfolds like roses
and the meaning is in the silence
