The Magic Word
It’s funny how people react on the written words of mine/
Poetry-smitten herds of rhymes, lines I so precisely design/
Verses I twine, a light I let to shine, only to fade away/
Decay to the tiniest straw of ray to betray my world of gray/
To sway away to the moon and the stars I find so wonderful /
To forget the scars of time, torn asunder ghosts of hateful/
I never relied on religions, I find them misleading and odd/
Some seen me draw angels, asked me if I believe in God/
Oh, yes, I believe in the glory of The Lord, grace of divinity/
The affinity of my soul and tranquility of infinite eternity/
But the words I write, pictures I draw, are just a tiny piece/
Of my vast world of magic, a place where I’m at peace/
Where I might not feel, but still sing of love and devotion/
Where emotions are memories of bitter tears in an ocean/
But still so sweet even if sour, delightful but still so ghastly/
A vastly heat of love I devour, as gaily flames go to ashes lastly/