I gather her in the emptiness of my hands
Peering in to see her smile
Fingers shivering in the fragrant cold
Of moonless nights
I set her free upon the candlelight
As she floats to tune
More ancient than the pain I write about
There is music that beckons the missing moon
Shadows searching for the light
That billows and stretches on the bed
Away from everything burning secretly
The fumes adorning the walls
Like charcoal and paint calling names
Louder as they chase down someone
Exhorting replies of questions past
Like death toll the violin notes
Or ancient songs
As dark as night descending in so many beauteous forms
All alone and gone without a note of where the last candle began and ends.