Sunlight brings a frisson of joy to my skin, one my emotions translate a new-day smile and my creative self morphs into lyrics and beat.
Lyrics may yet raise or chain me up, may show me light or steal even the will to open my eyes. So angel of the silver tongue be sure to shore me up, to sever the ropes that bind, not bind with severe wreaths of knot.
Lyrics are the condensations of the poets soul, they reach for the of smallest truths fashioning them into light soft rain, all in the prayer that they day will come when this arc of love becomes the greatest of floods.
Lyrics fashioned below the level of tears, that transform pain into wings that can fly for so many years, beyond the generations and into horizons yet unsung, for these words become part of our DNA, of the inheritance of souls.
Let the lyrics not carry you over the dust that vexes thee, nor fear to disturb the layers of years ignored, yet sweep it full clean.
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