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.