Second Fiddle

Ripping through lands and needles
And writing words with obtuse force
But for once they play first fiddle
For they're true at the source

Second fiddle one would suppose
Is a violin bowed on stages
Whilst my bearing is rain and repose
And ignoring ancient sages

They're in books, see, acting mighty
Playing Gods in some cases
They're often Ares and Aphrodite
But sometimes tangible faces

So I continue to rip and tear through beaches
In minds and in songs no less
And though my tongue is still and speechless
I tidy a barren mess

Novels sit by droplets and gales
And lectures echo in ink
Verses form a boat's sails
And we'll float until we sink