In the center of the sounds

furthermost from the stars the voices soothe
wrapping me in a blanket of my own thoughts
subjunctive voices encouraging to take the illness
away from its oblate passions and door locked symbols
though these folks of honorable acts
never wish me to deny my experience
caution and passing songs of protection
still and nimble protests educate the mines
forests call out for the passion of the limbs

if only it could slow down to be said
the radical call of heaven’s ointment
so many songs, so much music on the other side
the wall between life and death is a single brick
that brick is a buffer between realities
all the echoing harmony on the other end
only sing for me, for each have their own song
patience and ethical questions collide
passing early in the multicolored light

all that vamping harmony of life
we have all walked to the sound of our hearts
mine hears an array of sounds
violins and trumpets all sustained
along with writing for the final bars
a guitar floating midsection never to be seen
like educated dressings that match justifiably
but these are the words we all hear
letting the central voice from the call to our tears