The song falls below the sound
and begins again beyond our hearing,
erupting now as light bird wind and sky,
your fingers driving the bow across the strings
your hand arm a hammer beating
against the silence that holds us all
and you rise one last time
alive as never before
calling us to hear the music,
to breathe again, to dance and die
as every day the night and night the day,
and you, grateful for the applause,
stand before us as ourselves.