When I bring your broken song
back to your broken self,
when I follow your voice
and reach the ends of your shore,
let me into you.
Lead me to that little child
who tries to sing her way out
of her self-imposed walls.
Bring her to my consoling arms.
We will lie down in your depths
and watch you mend yourself
as you sing to the moon.
We will quietly fall asleep
to the rhythm of your words.
Words that echo
in the theater of a still night
and rhyme in accord with
the tides of a forlorn sea.
Words that soothe
our damaged souls.
All the songsters of the night
can never hope to recreate
the music of the world
I have found in you.