The blind violinist plays,
To an audience she cannot see.
She bows to the applause,
She’s on the street,
But she can’t be sure…
Yet still she bows to the audience she cannot see–
She hears a door closing,
A key turning,
Locking her in…
She listens and ignores,
She just keeps playing,
Imagining the calls of “encore, encore”…
I step through flowers in the rain,
The rain pours, a million drops of silver.
Street lamps shine on the glistening fallings,
Like eyes of orange honey dripping, spreading through the watery air.
I look up,
into the above,
into the wet pinched globes rushing down.
An abundance of glowing powers, some are dead,
but live on in our sight,
in our light.
Reflections of raindrops in each other,
All showing the powers of the infinite nocturnal sky.
Stand, look, stare and see-
The night is alive,
The stars are awake,
To the music of the skies.