what the funk, monk? where
form is found, that sound
but you emerge
as a bright shadow shaping
the void, your voice
speaking within the spaces,
giving shape
to the silence
only you
inhabit.
sometimes
it's not what's there
but what could be,
as you leave us
hanging
onto the next life
line you offer, a trill
a whirl
wind over keys
unlocking
your mind, opening
doors you alone
know. and there
we step through.
a whole other side,
dumbfounded, lost
but found.
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