Who could truly live
Without a warm chord,
A minor touch, a resolution
That reaches the soul?
I travel with every song,
Washed away and washed clean,
Comforted and calm.
The real world tugs to
No avail as waves of
Melody mask and melt
The concerns of my present.
On the blasted, battered
Beach my scalding feet
Are cooled and cleansed.
Grains of measured salt sting
Exposed edges of my mind,
But in the pain of guilt and grime,
Truth radiates through guilded rhymes.
I think in time with the driving,
Primal pounding; my mind dances
With weaving, wild riffs.
My music is inseperable,
Engrained and twisted together
With when I stare
And when I blink;
With who I am
And how I think.
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