Mournful or playful, you're out there without an anchor drifting free
with your emotions singing to the night wind, or singeing with
white-hot flame the complacency it cannot be left alone- aloneness in
a crowd, yet sharing your all in all feeling so out but going inside,
toying with the idea, bending the notes, carressing the phrase,
carreening around the heartbeat, fleeing from the known, portraying
the pleasure, extracting the essence, sounding the cymbal, freeing the
entrapped. Foreigners may feel apart or a part, refugees seeking find
a hearth with warmth, language is no barrier to this beseeching of the
heart. Flying now, it sets you free- gliding with the breeze, drifting
in the clouds.
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