Circle

The Music

the musicians stand in a
staggered circle and suddenly,
their foreheads are all
one
and the music pours from their eyes and
their fingertips in rivulets of pure,
pure gold
They touch one another gently
as they communicate amongst themselves
and with the rest of existence.
centuries upon centuries fold
and tumble upon the heads of passerby,
brought down from the sky by
the music.
Upturned faces are filled with
wonder.
there are no words.
only the
music.