I wake to a song on my lips
Sung in utterance of a desperate tongue
Only angelic creation could comprehend
Because I don’t really know where to start
Let alone end.
What was a morning of quite tranquility
Into a breeze of agony
Words dancing have suffered enough.
Pain blew in that fleeting moment
Into a frozen line of a sonnet
That chilled down to the bone
That flew away with the wind
Just disappeared, nothing wavering
Where raptured souls had been
The season of sorrow has an end
Let the celebration begin.
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