The Man with the Lyre lives
Beneath my shuttered eyes,
A half-moon face, silver as cents-
Those Earthly things he sings away,
And through the day he plays.
Slowly, I surrender to the song,
Soft promises He conjures in My Night,
Whispers that it never, ever matters.
And I want to leave,
Forget the world, if only for a minute
And listen to the melody,
The purple notes we die to be.