Monday, 6 August 2007

When Strings Break (For Eric)

The flower is open.

I can smell it.

Touch it.

See it.

I hear the song it plays.

There is nothing so beautiful in the world.

The flower smiles.

I see the joy in the smile.

And the pain in the eyes.

No one heard the song today.

No one knelt by to smell.

I bent down and touched it.

It quivers.

I hear the song again.

I sing along.

And then I see it.

The flower is held open.

There’s a delicate, invisible strand.

I can see it.

No one heard the song today.

I listened for it.

It was gone.

I hear a tiny sound.

The strand is gone.

The flower is closed.

I will stand by.

I will wait for the song.

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Talk, my friend. Now that you've read this section, the urge to speak has increased. I know. It's all right. It happens...
Stop fighting it. Talk.