Marco Di Caprio

Why can I not sing to you as I should?
 Why can I not shape a line with care?
 Why do I twist words into fevered games
 that stir a restless noise?

My voice softens.
 It moves now in faint, fragile lines
 as something begins to form.

Illuminate my voice.
 Strip it of excess, of ornament, of noise.
 Let it speak without strain.

Let me break through—not by force, but by truth.
 Toward a form that does not betray itself.
 Toward a word that does not collapse.
 Toward a love that endures.