most of those
that listen best
are dead and gone
but in your chest

their wisdom stays
a tone is still clear
as perfect as when
their sound was here

spirit of death
O’ breath on the wind
port of eternal
entwined our sins

remember in love
reminiscing like porn
enlarging that spot
their kernel to form

enslaving our heart
attachment the curse
just for that ear
that once sang immersed