being sung

Down the winding path he went,

a glimmer of something unsung did he see.

 To sing it was not his intent,

  but rather only to see it,

  to understand it.

 But standing at last in its light, the only way to see it, to understand it,

  was to sing it.

 ~~~

 A song was whispered to the man

 It said love me for who I am.

 Knowing this to be of gold,

  down the corridors of time he went,

  venturing to find the tune

  and the one who sang it.

 He happened upon a turn,

  where the song disappeared.

 Silence was all that remained.

 Until from deep within          

did he hear

 the song had ceased to be playing outside.

 Now he

            was singing the song inside