Past the Pane

Past the pane, the newly-risen sun Embodies hopes to rise, to peak, to wane, And here within, the music has begun: Fearful, aggressive songs of despair and pain. And on my mind’s horizon swarm The strange possessors of my form, A-bustle to the rhythm of the sounds that sting my soul. And, as I gaze into the blue beyond, The universal of my heart’s pursuit, I call to God and pray my echoing voice… But ah! my voice is mute.