With its notes, the music of language,
Drills deep, knows no fences,
Senses, the lingering mystery,
Behind all creative lenses.
Oh Language, Oh Language,
Oh Poetry, Oh Music!
I never tire of your consequences,
Forever surprising and thrilling,
Our most sensitive nerve endings.
When I no longer feel alive,I see great paintings and revive,Or watch a classic, flowing film,That lights the room however dim.I love all Art,For art is life,All that we carry way inside,The best of life’s spiritual riteThat moves our sentimental tideAll that transcends and reaches wide,That brings us close and so to findThe link between…
He helps himself more,It will be the most illuminatingMoment in the history of mankindAnd Hope, will then be rebornWhen we finally realizeThat loving is better than hating.
Resonate a heart beat,The look of love,Exemplify?Ask a Poem,It may tell you,Softly,On the sly.
Of that there is no doubt,What else do you know,Can make you dream out loud.
It’s a kind of Spiritual Pain,That you cannot do without!
When unfairly used,Nothing really can repair,Sentiments, abused!
