I throw my heart up into the sky –
honest joy pinwheeling on errant breeze.
Take this, this simple song and do what you will,
throw it into the abyss of the center,
hide it where the sand meets the sea,
bury it beneath the scales of monsters.

Surely somewhere, somewhen,
it will be found by one who needed to find it.
It will be measured, wondered about, recited.
Perhaps a high note might stun a pragmatist
or maybe the low throb of its rhythm
will find a gaunt heart to give its warmth to.

But mark me well, oh gentle reader,
one fine day, when the world least expects it
the love that is crafted in this simple voice
will spin and whirl, dip and dive, breathing for clouds.
One whose world needed exactly this voice to set it free
will slap life with fevered palm and be its master.