Strings once, found me fond
I played them for a season
Suddenly they turned, Bled steel into my touch
Yelled, Halt! ’tis not to be completed
I played another song, and another and another
Thrice, passed the seasons
Thrice they turned, my music undone
Growling Enough!, I vowed silence.
Hollowed of creation, kindling to no fire
I wove into a non-existence
When a song dared peek existence
It heard, Quiet! and obediently withered
Scarcely I’d hear, a soulful tune
Of a gifted, loved or untethered
My touch of steel, craved my strings
Yet I knew, Alas! ’tis not written
Eleven blue moons, two eclipses past
Blew in a voice of splendor
Lingered on, that sinner’s spirit
Stealing silence from its mistress
Mine was silence, not of some stranger
The nerve, the treachery of that songster
Return! I said, For a price, he obliged
A melody for my voice, he demanded
I tugged a tune so heartless and dull
His voice joined from a distance
Silence was returned, unharmed as promised
Returned to my bode in silence
Unfair transaction, he called it next day
Gifted me his strings with no question
Composer, smiled he with a burning star
On your strings, you are wasted.
Two sets of strings, of rust and of shine
A song dared resurface
The strings found me fond once more
As I composed a few out of silence
On eves of sapphire and ocean’s green
I willed many a song into existence
A splendorous voice would grace my tune
And stars burned, endless
When wings of night took flight through air
He’d turn to leave with my silence
What once was mine, now left with him
What nerve, what treachery of that monster
Stars were lost in wings and flight
My vow was beyond broken
Stay, I asked, for a price, he obliged
A kiss for my strings, he entreated