Before the Music Ends.

Before the music ends
I am.

Before the setting of the sun
I am.

Before ever perfect thought was dreamt
I sang.

And in the song that goes on
even as I shut my mouth
there is a long mile to walk.

In the coming together of two hands,
outstretched, two parted lips,
two trees conjoined, there is joy, unending.
A marriage of true contemplation,
a distillation of peace.

Before the music ends, beyond the rhythm of a day
is calm strung, just at arm’s length,
between twin motes of dust.

Nothing more than this, adrift, on a single note.
Ride on, ride on and in my heart play this again.
Bend me over a day and into a night,
find me after you have mailed out the last letter
of days gone by, in silence.

Who am I?

Before these words, finding themselves, within,
forgetful temperance, fear held down
by a pink nightgown
put on only after I tossed these
little white gloves
across the back of the chair.

These things I know are only liminal,
never forced but taken in at half-breaths.

Steps, my steps, undaunted by completion.

Before the music ends
I am
not waiting but begun.