tisseur de poèmes

I have only my hands to write 
Accompanied by my thoughts
I am playing a piano 
They are a score 
At the other end of a writing you are coming on tip toe
Not to disturb the music playing
You have been called by a tune
You were singing your tune in head 
And the poet caught it in mid air
They are tuning up 
A chorus of voices ,the active voice 
Not the passive one of a submisson 
Accepting the sovereignety of his writing