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.

Not here.

Not here.

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.