To The Musician

Singing softly,
Swaying, playing
over and again
the staying song…
That certain kind of praying
Where your hands may do the saying
all day long:

Is this the simple reason for your song?

You dream of things I cannot comprehend
Stretching out the fingers of your hand,
the tendons strain to show themselves approved
The airy room is empty, solace moves
into the sound between the clouds
that overshadow afternoons
And then it ends

And all along,
Is this the simple meaning of your song?