The sweetest is heard in the soul,
and seen in the sky.
It is a star perched on the center of the eye.
And the grass never ceased,
And the wind never missed a performance.
And of trees,
Mothers that bleed,
to feed not her children a feast.
The song that never sings,
The sweetest is heard in the soul,
and seen in the sky.
and the bitter is heard in fictional light,
and not seen for it does not warrant a sight.