When I’m quiet as dead

Like a corpse left in the coffer

Do not think I need your touch or voice

Do not even try…

I’m trying to listen

Do not cry or mourn my lost presence

Understand it and stay calm.

When I’m old and unknown

Still strapped to my rocking chair

Do not pity or try to move my ebon flesh

Do not get weary of my silence

For I am trying to listen

Eventually when I stand on my feet

Walking through my farm and smiling

Do not ask me why or what had changed

I’m the same, still listening

Only that now I hear what I’ve been seeking

Not the melodies in your voice or greetings

But the peace in the wind

The space traversing form I have lost many years

But I’m grateful I finally heard the music of oneness

It is this that gets me dancing.

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