Music,
I am moved by music
and the way it strains and means
something,
what? I am not sure…
something
to me, or to you, but it is different
It is a language of you and of me,
and it is a language
One that cannot be rationalized or reasoned;
Any language that matters, that finds its meaning in the heart
is a language without reason
There is language, scrawled like figures in a cave,
in the depths of your eyes
that swim like rocks in the surf,
tumbled and worn round with time
Your eyes are worn round with love and meaning,
And they are vast with the words
Of a clear, cold night when we moved
Unseen amongst the world, endless in our possibility