Monday, 22 December 2008

Toasted to a Crisp Served with Nuts

Here’s a toast to the songs that have yet to be sung,
Raise your glasses to the music yet to be heard,
By minds open to every stray sound and word,
They gather them in for a major peal to be rung,
Let the wine flow free and celebrate the singer,
Listen to the harmony that hovers around,
Hear the simple goodness that shall always abound,
And meet love in the melody and linger.

Know that you have heard the song before,
Remember beyond your memory’s range,
Then recognise everything that seems strange,
And realise that far less is greater than far more,
Lie under the shelter of thought with no bounds,
Feel in the smallest the largest worth,
See given in the lowest the highest birth,
And hear silence in horrendous sounds.

Then let every unworthy word die,
And kill the thought that gave it life,
Ignore wrong and it will become rife,
And within every unguarded action lie,
The easy road tempts with a cunning guile,
Paving the path with innocent’s pain,
Every footprint will leave an indelible stain,
And no truth will believe any empty denial.

Where do your footfalls imprint their song?
On the highlighted highway to hell or
Have you heard music that allows you to soar
Beyond anything imagined by any blind throng,
Never to touch the ground soiled and defiled
By arrogance walking in ignorant boots,
Without wisdom its’ knowledge innocence shoots,
And the child it kills in me remains free and wild.

Will this song ever be filled with every single chord,
Played to perfection by the best of the best,
So I may take a desperately needed rest,
And finally lay down beside this rusty sword,
Like a warrior defeated in battle, yet won the right
To speak with the words that still stand by me,
And spread truth that will set love free,
And lifts the veil of pride that blinds sight.

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