The lyrics,
they were the thoughts of a stranger,
the language of an unknown figure,
a fellow dreamer.

It was soft, but loud and shocking,
relaxing, but with an air of attentiveness, assertiveness,
hard to describe, yet so easily accepted,
so readily accepted.

The notes were visible
not to all, but to the dreamers
with closed eyes, they drew them in
envisage the song, the pattern the voice

Colours moving in the darkness of eyelids,
bouncing back and forth, swirling, almost dancing
the music painted its picture
in shades of blue

The blue and yellow made green
the red and blue...purple
the song played and painted
painted as it played
as it played to the dreamers

Music is more than a song
to a dreamer