My Sound
Tell me a story, a tale with a twisted ending
Paint a picture with the most crooked brush,
Rip open the fabric of man-made dreams,
Pierce through the fading sun, the last ray of sunshine
Open the doors to my world, shine through like the burning sun,
Nudge me to the edge of sanity, breathe new life into my senses,
Push me over the precipice of normality,
Down the rabbit hole, lose me in the fray,
Let me find my way home,
Let the stars be my beckoning call home,
Be my guiding star, my flashlight
Before the sun sets, carve my name in the darken sky,
Cast my blazing shadow across the dimming path,
Light the way.
I pray that you’d let Nightingale sing its beautiful song,
May its melody resonate through my tiring bones,
And may it help me find the muse within,
Find the roaring fire burning alive inside,
No instrument of hands made can contain the sound,
Like the Hummingbirds whistling tune,
A perfected sound of a thousand colors radiating purpose and meaning,
Inundate my soul and urge me on.
Bring me home.
Copyright © Paul Machintosh | Year Posted 2016
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