Words grow wicked with time

As a vocalist loses her fluency.

But I ask for your weary ear despite-

Sirens we’ve learned to hear as song

Sound is good, untouched.

Your sound-

Not the words you speak, or the sweep of your steps

Not even the cries of prophets who proclaim your name

Your silence is exactly the music I will dance through the moonless nights to

May I never see the light of day

I will always hear the hum of the world 

And know, love is calling