Orpheus and His Instrument

Orpheus strums the lyre, taming each sweet thread

A sound dripping honey, melody dancing through head

He gives even stones a will

And golden sun, facing him, stands still

 

Orpheus strums the lyre, mastering each pastel note

A medium drawn of harmony, love song he wrote

He welds harden hearts with fire

And the wooden beauty, loving him, joins the choir

 

Orpheus strums the lyre, faltering each adagio 

A sharp screech, sound of silver fangs kills slow

He closes her raven eyes

And the cold of hell, tormenting him, allows no goodbyes

 

Orpheus strums the lyre, playing until fingers bled

A ballod weeping tragedy, chamber song to resurrect the dead

He pleas with even gods

And the weakness of man’s spirit, betraying him, destroys natural laws

 

Orpheus strums the lyre, fighting the concerto colored red

A whine of want, turing, her shadow hovers overhead

He takes breath even from his own chest

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And the bond of sleep, stealing him, reunites lovers in rest

This poem is about: 
Me
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