“My heart sings to you without ceasing.”
You say this. and I cannot deny it
Every day. Every night. Until I’m deceased my heart does not stop singing to someone.
But how can I laud someone I have never really known?
How can you sing to one you have no reason to believe in, you mindless clump of flesh in my chest!? To a hyped up myth without a face? A copout answer for our conundrums. Our personal, biographical deus ex machina for our fated race. Because how likely is it that all that is real?
And yet my heart sings to something without ceasing. Something keeps it singing. Every moment another note, until I die, every moment it sings with all that’s in its little lungs. Without ceasing.
How can I love the one you sing to, my droning, idiotic, mammalian machine? And yet you are a part of me; You never cease your singing.
Oh my beautiful, naive heart, I cannot look upon a face that doesn’t exist! You have no eyes besides the two I hold on the shelf of my cheeks, out of your reach. You can see nothing without me. And you never cease from singing to your darkened audience.
And yet when I am silent the silent music in my veins breaks my old deaf ears wide open.
I see you are always sending something undeniably beautiful beneath my skin, behind my eyes, rushing again, like always, in the caves of my ears!
You sing to something. Something makes you sing. Something that is not there. Yet something sustains your singing. And your singing sustains me.
My breath now seems to me an afterthought, a mere byproduct of your simple, relentless song of worship.
How can I love one I’ve never seen, never met, never known. But when I come home, the dark, quiet home where no one lives but me, I hear your heart wrenching music again.
It is all I have. When you make your final bow, the rest of me fades like the scraping sound of a closing curtain. When even silence has timed out, what am I left with? I only have you, Little Heart.
Without your music I don’t exist. And I love you, and despite my learned neurons and trained eyes, I learn that I cannot help but love the one you sing to.
Raw Spoon
