Inside, we weave feeling and events into a song,
Which we project outwards, it helps us move along,
If you listen, you will hear them being sung,
All the sorrow, the hurt, the pain, being slowly wrung,
But most have become deaf, and will never hear its truth,
Because they never learned to listen, in their youth,
They grew up unknowing, never suspecting greater things exist,
And had they ever searched, they’d find what’s been missed,
They’d hear the many songs of sorrow and pain,
Learn how to cry within, creating a river from rain,
A river that cascades down their soul, to their heart,
Where their song begins to weave, where it finds its start.

Listen for the song that comes from the soul,
Hearken with your heart, the songs will make you whole,
They hold the power to create, have the potential to heal,
The songs reek of emotion, emotion so very real,
It tells the story of the winding roads we’ve taken,
And of the knowledge to which we may awaken,
But hove somehow missed, or never understood,
Maybe we haven’t taken the time to listen, as we should,
Because the song is sung so sweet, so pure,
It creates something indescribable, and unmatched cure,
Which we hearken to when we need something more,
When life has lost meaning, when you’ve become poor,
When darkness is present, and all else in on a distant shore.