Case cracked open on cobblestone
Horse hair sings where the light has flown
Rosin dust on my calloused thumb
Bonfire breathes where the kingdom come
Tide turns slow in the ash pit deep
Keeper wakes from his salt-crust sleep
Flame don't judge what the hands have played
Night just holds what the bow has made
Ash and rosin on the wind
Old light burns where I begin
No soul saved by a perfect note
Just warm hands on a wooden throat
Cracked bridge groans under weathered feet
Coals pulse slow in a steady beat
Case snaps shut on a tune half-done
Shrine keeps quiet for everyone
Tide turns slow in the ash pit deep
Keeper wakes from his salt-crust sleep
Flame don't judge what the hands have played
Night just holds what the bow has made
Ash and rosin on the wind
Old light burns where I begin
No soul saved by a perfect note
Just warm hands on a wooden throat
Glockenspiel chimes from a tower gone
Bell bronze sings where the lantern shone
Double bass bows in the cellar dark
Ship's hull groans in the meeting mark
Twenty years tending the lamp room glass
Twenty more watching seasons pass
Violin speaks what the light can't say
Bonfire listens in its own way
Ash and rosin on the wind
Old light burns where I begin
No soul saved by a perfect note
Just warm hands on a wooden throat
Morning fog lifts the heavy lid
Case rides home where the gulls have bid
Salt stays deep in the wood grain pores
Keeper rests on the hollow floors
Ash and rosin on the wind
Old light burns where I begin
No soul saved by a perfect note
Just warm hands on a wooden throat
Ash and rosin on the wind
Ember dies. Bow rests. Keeper sleeps.
