Humming Hands

Somewhere under an endless rainbow, gentle giants from afar sing drifting lullabies to quiet ears. Humming Hands strum lazily through groves of floral heat. Together, inspiration blossoms grow. They grow to sing, and sing for me. Joy will blossom but, like its roots, will die and wither away to the depths of watery graves. Rainbows have melted, tears have run, and empty strings remain the same.