Once again I return to another world … A world only known to poets...
Inadequacy fills my soul… To eulogize the living…
The legacy we think we know… To paint on this page my feelings…
How can one, where does one begin… He commands the poets’ pen…
Cloaks our spirit with his verse… At what cost, at what cost…
His yearning for love forever fills the inkwell…
But does the fire fuel the fire…
Does his mistress, the empty page, keep him from redemption…
If so, forget the sirens beckoning and take love…
His song, our song, the song of countless hearts since God’s first breath…
And we’ve been blessed by this, his curse and gift…
His songs make us cry, his tears write his song… For how long, for how long…
Would we trade his music, to set his heart forever free…
To love without restraint, or would one Judas him for a song…
Could I write what he feels when the door is left open…
As he awakens and turns to find only the empty page…
I will try to fill some space for him this time…
How many times must rose petals dry…
Falling one by one to the floor…
How many times will hearts shatter…
Yet return for the pain once more…
When will the love that is captured…
Not change and need to be freed…
When will the need to feel love be fulfilled…
Who will fulfill that need…
So now my painting ends… We’ve never met, but we are friends…
From myself and other fans… Thanks again… Thanks again…
