He Sang
So, he had to sing;
All alone he sat
Wondering if he could
Sing what he had.
No words could take
His flaring breath;
They came as if
They longed for death.
At the end of all words
He smiled in pain;
Yet all words he sang
Knew only joy.
When I asked him why
Why he sang;
He gave a pause
And again he sang.
When I asked him why
Why he never rhymed;
He gave a pause
And again he sang.
When I asked him why
Why he sang alone;
He gave no pause
And he sang.
The long lines
He whispered with joy;
The short ones said
He hated the weight.
He raised his pitch
And came down in low;
Even a sea
Would see no waves
Like he showed.
I asked him why
Why he sang;
He just sang.
Several breaths I took
Fearing his song;
My heart grew loud
And night seemed long.
I heard his song
Wondering all the while;
Why he sang
And never rhymed.
It gave me joy
And a frequent pain;
Every time he stopped
And started again.
Now the morning arrived
And the darkness dried;
No birds chirped;
He continued his song.
Long and long he went
Beyond what the rays
Of the sun could go.
Into my heart
His voice began to burn
And darkness cleared;
To the full the light gained.
His song never stopped
Nor the refusal to rhyme;
I asked him why
Why he sang.
He smiled and continued;
Into my nerves;
He got it all.
Only if I knew
Why he sang.
For all I thought
Why he sang,
Could give me a peace
And ease.
But this time now
I heard his song;
And realized then
The mistake I made.
I heard his song
But never what he said.
Yes,
I heard his song
But never what he said.
A song needs no rhyming
Not even a head;
A heart it needs;
Another to listen to it.
All who hear
Never get it.
It was a song
Not a nursery rhyme
Where only the last words
Seem to rhyme.
Now that I was listening
It was sweet;
It was life
Talking to me;
And asking me to live it.
Searching for poems
In songs of heart
Was a mistake
I always made.
Looking for rhyming
In last words
Time I wasted.
He was singing to me
My own life;
For me he sang
And I kept asking
Why he sang.
He sang for my joy;
He sang against my pain;
He sang in the darkness;
And also in the rays.
Singing he also smiled.
At him I never looked;
I only wanted to know
Why he sang.
He paused to see
If I would realize
I was his audience
And his only friend
My life he is.
Singing to me
A song of love.
Singing to me
All tears he rolled;
And the pitch he raised;
The whispers he rang;
Were for me
For me to listen.
And to live
Not to complain
And waste calling it a pain.
He sang for me;
For me he sang;
Always he will.
The favor I return
I live,
And he will.
posted by xubayr at 5:17 PM
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