When I’m quiet as dead
Like a corpse left in the coffer
Do not think I need your touch or voice
Do not even try…
I’m trying to listen
Do not cry or mourn my lost presence
Understand it and stay calm.
When I’m old and unknown
Still strapped to my rocking chair
Do not pity or try to move my ebon flesh
Do not get weary of my silence
For I am trying to listen
Eventually when I stand on my feet
Walking through my farm and smiling
Do not ask me why or what had changed
I’m the same, still listening
Only that now I hear what I’ve been seeking
Not the melodies in your voice or greetings
But the peace in the wind
The space traversing form I have lost many years
But I’m grateful I finally heard the music of oneness
It is this that gets me dancing.
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