Random Suppose

Suppose I could tickle the strings of a guitar and radiate to the clouds musical notes of my past lives,
To bring reason to the hows, whys and good byes
Suppose that by the mere meeting of our pupils,
through an invisible tunnel,

I could feed you my sorrows,
And you could relieve this life of infinite withering tomorrows,
Suppose I made four rights and made a circle.
Then could I mold your eyes into squares and extract perfect building blocks of a castle?
Suppose I aggressively pray God into exhaustion with the entirety of my hopes fears and repentance.  Would I lose the guiding hand through minutes, hours, seconds? 
Suppose my frost gives you heat
Suppose my fire moves your eclipse 
Suppose I expose you to the eccentric simplicities of my domain,
I guarantee you will yearn to be you again.