My heart is a lonely hunter.

My arrow drawn, ready to strike,

Tears toward the target, bringing it to life. 

 

A faint piano begins easing through the silence.

The melodious sound sings softly, slowly intensifying and cascading into miraculous chaotic euphony. 

The cymbals crash violently, the drums beat wildly, the orchestra soars to notes higher than mountaintops, higher than clouds, higher than stars. 

This orchestra is my dream. 

 

My heart is a lonely hunter.

My arrow drawn, nothing to strike,

Tears through the air, wishing me to strive. 

 

The piano disappeared. 

 

One day, as I was out hunting, 

Cupid sent my arrow to a ukelele.

I was so glad, so joyous for more music. 

The rush of the melody swept me away for a reason. 

Then I looked down and my love was gone. I turned upwards

Only to be told that my heart was a lonely hunter once again.

Now I am alone. I have no time hunt.

I am set.

My arrows have been tucked away under my bed.

 

Maybe those notes from the orchestra of my mind, 

Maybe those that flew to the sky flew too high.

I see them every day in those distant stars.

And I wait and watch them fall, twisting and turning.

I want to catch them, 

But they never fall to earth,