Within the composition

After the anger,
after the words were thrown,
the wind carried them away to the sea
beyond the place where seagulls nested;
beyond the place where your eyes only spoke of love.
They were the blue of the sea and the sudden grey of Icelandic storms.
They were the snowflakes when you laughed with absolute joy.
It was the colour I knew
It was the colour when your heart fought with your soul.
In painter's dream,
your spirit created pure beauty;
one note following the other in a dance that only genius creates.
Upon the lava rocks,
you strode toward the place where I stood standing calmly waiting in the grey of the dawn;
when the world doesn't quite know yet what it should be..
The notes streamed from compositions you wrote on cafe napkins
and scraps of paper you found in your pockets as we talked over glasses of wine;
conversation that went on long into the night.
You wrote for violins that softly cried to ghosts who haunted the wind.
And when you swam in a pool of blue;
your spirit restless by the continuous laps,
I would listen to the sound of the sea in your soul
and know the energy of pure life!.