I can't easily decipher words lyrics attitudes emotions. I sit in my fog and wonder. And in your magic, there lie the reflection the key that I had been searching for. In your mystery, lay the quiet twinkle and glimmer of a silent memory, that huddled in the alcoves of my melancholy mind. And in your stories, I discovered the yellow brick road, what I though was made of asphalt, but not. And in your absence, I see no Emerald City, no gleaming gates, just a long expanse of nothing. "Let there be light, let there be hope, let you rest." they said and curled you into the ground, with that final lament.
This poem is about my director, who died last year. His name was Mr. Wright (note the title).