The Silent Man

The silent man is playing
His notes that float, and singing along
With static lips that keep on saying
His words don’t reach… it’s a silent song

His fingers move, the keys compress
The silence weaves, he sings along
With a voice that takes a guided guess
His tale is short… and way too long

His forehead streams, his arms are straining
The silence looms, he sings along
With trust and tears each not waning
His eyes don’t lie… his smiles are strong

The silent man starts shaking
The silence springs, but he sings along
With failing faith and constant waking
His wounds don’t bleed… they merely throng

The silence worsens, it’s no more a dream
He wishes for omega, the end to his song
With a promise that death would never scream
His name as a waste, and his life as a wrong