The destructive power of beauty takes it toll
An’ hell’s what happens if you lose control
Of all the tender things creating open doors
Nothing remains nothing if no one knows
Souls perish in a sweet decorative flourish
And memory clings in mirrors that cherish
An image retained in the beatified presence
Sacrificed and deified upon an altared icon
Sacred in the memory but lost in the detail
Of bargains struck and other dealings done
Enriching so many and impoverishing one
Street singing angel with the choir of love
Descending miracles from that god above
Transforming water into a sweeter flowing
Of wine and beauty from a song and rhyme
Heard beyond dreams and streams of tears
Falling inside the sound of a sacred image
Anywhere other golden beyond pure choice
Caressing truth writ blues apocalyptic voice.