To the Fiddler

by Columbine

You can not reach my heart, wild friend, you're trying far too hard
Your raging histrionics tip your hand and flash your cards
I'm far too old to bow to zephyrs wand'ring outside Spring
I'm far too clever to be swayed by your flash glittering

I reach not for your heart, fair stranger, only for my own
I can not help but play the song that's writ upon each bone
Forgive me if my mirror flashes sunlight on your eye
The pain will pass as I will pass, accept my fond goodbye

I do not know your tongue, wild friend, your words are strange to me
My language has a different word for what your kind call "free"
And while I dream as all folk dream, I know it for a game
It's tied and locked within the box I call its given name

Your tongue is your own thing, fair stranger, pleasing to my ear
To me it is but music that I dance to while I'm here
Forgive me if I cannot answer in a kindred speech
Confusion passes as I pass, well sped far out of reach

My memories are mine, wild friend, so don't pretend to know
What made me what I know I am, what maps the way I go
How dare you mock my selfborn path with flourishes and trills
Begone, you painted mockery, you rustic of the hills!

Your memories are yours, fair stranger, please take no offence
At what I'm sure is only happenstance coincidence
No two paths are at all the same, I mean no mockery
If there's a fool astride this tale, be sure the fool is me

I weary of your noise, wild friend, but would that I could know
What motivates such cleverness outside a scripted show
But none can get so close to see what hides behind the mask
And none are meant to see the show who have the gall to ask

But that is not the truth, fair stranger, that's the saddest tale
For those who think it wrong to wonder find their worlds gone stale
And so I walk this thin-honed blade, this path of raw desire
My company the ones who'd rather live within the fire

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