Pan flute

To a moon full of wingless spirit
do I play my detrimental hymnals too
The stars sashay in swirls and twirls
To my melody of panflute

Ocean sound from depths of blue
Blown over, scarce fragments
line my being in troubled
patterns of silver mist

Throughout young impervious nightfall
My flute plays on long
My flute plays on low
Carrying those who move along

My pan maves too along dry, parched lips
Stroking the inflorescence notes
as I let my sorrows play away
To upstanding applause and encores

Stay, watch on and listen more,
To my panflute

On I play in the hope of knowing
that somehwere the knowledge is growing
My cure now lies in exigency

The tales of my ruptured heart
that seep into innocent notes
are caught on wings of moths in flight
and taints them in dusty tears and streaks of black
yet they wear their decorated gowns with pride
Ignorant of my burden they flew into
when the first sound of my flute cast over them

The light cries as more blood coats my
happy notes that soar from pan and flute and pipe
are as unnoticed as the glittered drops
That drown my smile in salty waves
yet on I play and play on I shall
as I die from the inside out