The Guitar Poem by Plague Rose

A common classical
Existent and fine tuned
Sings its haunting serenade
Like whispers to my soul
Ever constant
Yet never knowing
It does not understand
The beauty of itself
An insignificant tool
You are wrong
Strange misunderstanding object
The stars shine for you
And though you cannot see it
They are dancing to your lovely tunes
Melodies softer than silk
And yet you endure
The tragedies of the lives given
You play along in their sadness
And shout with their bursts of anger
Trickle like water in the sea of happiness
Bright like lighting and loud like thunder
You are the waves crashing
The clouds drifting in the silent mist
Echoing ever constant sounds
In a calm never knowing fashion
Simple, elegant
Always in the midst of the wars and battles
Of daily life and even more
Constant, existent
Whispering unheard secrets
To the world