Loud flowers spoke a foreign tongue
Lifting branches seeking shelter
Until their tips no longer pointed,
But beckoned in one silent movement
Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.
Can you cry?
Can you sing?
Can you play guitar until your hands remember
And shake from torment,
Surrendering every precious thought
Holding space where sound is void;
Holding hands where love is all around.
Being, and letting go.
Loosing, but not a game.
Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.