Who is brave enough?

Who is hungry enough to go first? 

To assess this situation 

To make a judgment, taste this fruit?

He steps up to the plate; first in line. I can tell he needed this.

His eyes never deviated, unblinking.

He can’t stop staring.

Not even as he slowly rises and approaches 

I feel even more naked than I already am.

I wonder who he is really looking at; the person he stares at must be made of glory. But I know that even pure gold is at the mercy of wear and tear.

Yet his confidence prevails.

And he begins his expedition, 

I am both a passenger and his destination. 

His fingers talk to me 

They tell me what he wants, 

I respond, they already have it.

Draught now only a distant memory 

He has reached his destination.

I am confused 

I thought I was his salvation 

Yet here I lay, him guiding me to paradise, 

To a feeling I never felt.

Our eyes, locked together, transported to a place only we understand

They are comfortable there, what else is there to look at here 

He speaks to me in my language 

I experience the joy of being understood 

His fingers are an instrument 

For harmony and understanding 

I let him play his music for a long time 

Him and his instrument 

Me and him.