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Inside my mind
Where things are deep,
And sometimes unkind.
A great morass of
Strings and things,
Harps and drums and flutes,
Played by winged beings.
There's a choir,
And ancient choir
Singing, always,
The music of the spheres.
A force of forces
And terrible choices
Good news and bad
Glad times, and sad,
Epic stories, ancient glories
And reams of untold
Prophecy and history.
Sing to me, my beloved
Your voice, this voice,
Somewhere, in the dark.
Angel means messenger,
Bring your news from on high,
Make me laugh, make me cry
Make me sad, and happy
Joyful notes, and some crappy
Every remaining day
Until the day I die.