Today, words are few and frail

As vast memories float on

Entangled with fantasies

Soaring back to their flocks

–

The hours spill into gutters

As blood bonds watch silent

For the song bird to preach

To blend melody with color

–

His sermon breaks through at last

As a cold-hearted gale  

The mad ravings from a maze

Of alleyways and overpasses

–

The chords stir alive

Sprouting roots in foreign ground

Blossoming for a few

Torn from the hearts others