I want
With the stroke of my pen, to strike you down
With the blink of my eyes, to unsee you

More importantly

I need
With the tools I surely possess, to repair my own heart
With the uncommon grace that is my sinew, to forgive you

dream up

The thing about heartstrings
They do what they wish
Without warning
Ignoring caution
And against one’s will
They rise to the skies 
Like vapor
Or silver skyscrapers 
And play out 
Some symphonic plan

You Name This

I plan to conduct an experiment
And I hypothesize
That I can conduct The symphony
Of music to the skies

After which, I’ll conduct The lightening
-its electric gaze I’ll hold
Conduct then I will The interview
Of a soul centuries old

The music, The lightening, The interviewee 
They function together as one
Can you imagine the final scene
As they masterfully come undone