Word weaver

Silly snake in a basket
unaware of the world outside
awaits, in the dark for the sounds
which wrap around his psyche
stir responses primal and forgotten
command him to uncoil,
rise to attention, sway back and forth
entranced in a dance of utter abandon

he understands not the charmer
or how his armor ages old is pierced
so simply, merely by sound and rhythm
which calls to him, submit yourself
loose your skin, come forward
you will be rewarded, let go
and you will find who you are