Waited on misfortune until brief moments of clarity
A sentence spoke in a panic to provoke
(This may not be the utmost of depth we've reached)
Untitled, loose harp peg
Vibration of the soul... cries in it's heritage
Keeper of the flame...
Banished to the last living memory.
Hold back the tears, in stormy weather
And from frailty there is grace and your parents wisdom
Can still feel the warmth from somewhere within...
We move shoreward by the lake and hike through the mountains...
A prayer among the choir hymns in rejoiceful unison
Delicate thoughts... the train is leaving
But only nostalgia knows where...
Only poets are living
For. the. soul. purpose.
A heart to beat the same.