I fell from existence,
as music swallowed my mortality--
The endless bliss- that sorrow never took,
into sinking souls.
I lifted you, beyond your life,
in acoustic strumming,
verses the spoke Truth.
Lost, only as yourself,
I am identity--
rained on and rusted, but still whole.
In throaty voacls, and a fast waving hand,
I can save the world's soul...
but not my own.
*-> Patricia <-*
I wrote this while listening to "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan." You might say Dylan is my muse.