The Guitarist

In this world
five men stand
tall, immortal, forever.

One, in stone.
He dazzles me with his brilliance,
his diamonds,
his youth.

One, in the trees.
He sees deep in my soul,
uncovering, knowing,
understanding, unnerving.

He stands in the desert,
shy, modest,
his fingers wrinkled,
weathered to the bone.
His music is deadly,
a coiling snake,
striking out at his will.
The intensity,
the fascination,
the wonder.

He, you will find, in the river.
He is a shepherd,
surprising with all his colours,
a flower child,
boundless love,
there will be no end,
no death, for him.

He stands alone in the mountains
yet, alone he is not,
never will he be.
He shows me the world
as it should be seen,
quite simply,
and for the first time,
I fall in love with her.
Who is this being?
bringing me to love
my painful troubles.