Nothing but the ocean tide of each breath but

Space has never been so full

Every particle once thought empty

Fulfills a purpose in vacillating

The changes in the way his lips

move to get each paramount word

just perfect


The swing from chord to chord, fingers

moving deftly across a board,

riding on that high of creativity

and the strum of gleaming strings


Together or alone, a harmony so magnetic,

every nerve buzzes with the hot tension of sounds

So powerful, so twilight but concentrated

Leaving a listening existence in utter awe

of such paradisiac imperfections.