When I hear the music of my past;
          An echo of the person I used to be,
          I wish I could speak to it as it does to me,
And tell it notes to play so it may last.

A melody of perfect beat and scale,
          Imperfect as I play it back now;
          Music then, and broken hearts now,
Still magic of the moment, never fail.

And even with the sorrowful notes,
          The change from G to E minor, slow,
          And my love for the symphony grow,
As I play each beautiful note I wrote.

My life, is a lament to Her creation,
          All the happiness that seeds,
          And the sadness that breeds;
It is all true, and never imitation.

And when Her music plays with mine,
          The harmonizing ring of morning bells,
          Of forests, creatures, and ocean swells,
She rules 'til the end of time, with a single line: