“They will not come. They will not ask.”

Too delicate
this tripping of the keys
This dance that needs no other task.
A ballet of notes
a single toe
touches the stage.
Slender,move to a distant place.

The watcher treads a heavier space
listens and moves
without a trace
sunshine? the shadows
heed him not
nor notice when he leaves.

The ever-circling
leaves his face, his word
the old master knew the pattern.
Do we find his way? or theirs?
or make our own?
You tell me
in ancient language
speak in tongues
Unknown?
Unknowable?