she, whosoever she may be,
has raised the fire,
called the whirlwind.
yet he remained still,
standing, filling his spirit
with deep silence to absorb the sound.
here was a decision of some weight
it pumped his lungs
and burst forth into his eyes,
it set his head aflame with light
and seethed into the outer air.
she reached for it,
and her hand slithered across the matted wet fur robe
lying upon his still body
"musician, are you?" he finally grunted.
This is a found poem. In the literal sense. The sentences have been taken randomly from Magical Tales by R. J. Stewart. You can read the full sentences which end in fullstops.