My Fair Leigh, I Do Deceive in My Mask for Thee

My Fair Leigh, I Do Deceive in My Mask for Thee

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Wednesday, November 25, 2014 @ 5:13 AM

My fair Leigh, I do deceive in my mask for thee.

The eyes which sell, despite my conscience, tell

How I sing of your sound upon the lark of a day

Past night's morn, and how I'd fancy awakening

To a spectre glowing through Ecclesiastes' signs,

For I seethe, this brutish soul matriculates down

To your heart of my matter, my sweet cherry's a

Wonder to behold, and yet I never knew a lady I

Could never vest my coital interests so soft: she

Is like ice upon a heated wooden stove, melting 

A heart amid dissent and no living reciprocally

Along my path towards a good life, but with the

Life force which blood flows upon the heavily of

Burden, but I will thus defer to your friend, a soul

Of a heart golden but wrought with the ravages

Of a tarnished sot in need of a buffer to shine to

Finally be of your substance amid sound, and I?

I'll mask my amorous face of my commiseration.

Three Thirty-Seven Ante Meridian

Three Thirty-Seven Ante Meridian

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 14, 2014 @ 3:37 AM

I. Ode to the Muse Thither a Poet Loves

While my muse sleeps thither me,

I awaken a-sorrowed, my soul sees

How my heart bleeds cold water as

If my fair Appalachia winter seethes.

Tis the present for which I'll weep

When my muse is thither way, and

I, ensconced, bereft of sleep, attest

That I, the poet, be a-vigil at twilight

While I dream of my muse at five.

II. A Commiseration Upon the Bewitching Hour

Tis the witching hour, and I? Well,

I state to thee upon my 3:37 morn

The spectre of her haunting ghost

Summoning me to combine hands.

She glows, but I see warmth within

Recalling our sinning oft and again

When last we tangoed at a banjo's

Pick, as we dueled as they, yet lived.

Are we pioneers? Are we fantasies?

Our reality shall remain our epoch

In time, only for our diaries to state

When I sang to my Leigh, and now?

Now she's thither, gone night by day.

The vultures encircle my plight as

I prepare forever my darkest lights.

III. Elegy of Haunting Recollections

I might be dead at a present, but I

Said, "Fair Maiden, let us begin our

Tryst between our spectre of colors

As radiant as Venetian skies, but I'll

Save the best for our gondola's ride

As the watery canals shall float us

So far as we may lay upon our fasts.

Lay, Lady, lay! As I will tempt thee

A ride by my equine across ol' Paris.

The images never dry like an oasis

Nor the creeks at rise and we'll flee

Upon our ark with two animals so

They, being us, devour fresh meat.

Gnash our teeth, and we? Our prey,

And though the blood subsides, how

There'll be a next time, and when a

Blue bell blooms among spring irises

Still our love'll spread hither till our:

Our mountains shall bury our souls.

My Heart is as the Snow

My Heart is as the Snow

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 14, 2014 @ 1:25 AM

She fell from the heavens a fleet of angels,

The wings fluttering, so different, but real,

And I, but her fool, and I do love her true!

As I suited in my coat and pressed forward.

Love dictates all by which we're to awaken

To a truth so relative, and yet we're to sin

Should we plan to flourish and cycle again

We must post haste, if we're to do it again,

As Cupid's arrow'll penetrate till we bleed.

She whispers within my ear a sonnet a-wet

Exquisite, transcendent of a flesh to bone.

I read her my Longfellow as she, Dickinson,

And I, as if the latter, a droll soul now free!

A harp's sonnet harmonizes my pen's lyrics

As she danced to the molasses of my cantos 

The fire amid the ice never was to be more 

Spectacular upon the night till a day cometh

By where that wonderland did die upon her

Hearth, once lit, and to my pain, let me die.

Once upon a season's dreary, when a snow

Fell and I felt teary, the eyes said my life'll

Never feel the breath of her whited cloud's

Breeze, as she loved me once, then so twice,

Till a third was charmed, but Solis claimed,

And claimed she escaped so due to my soul.

Let it bleed, I bid of thee! Let a leech drink!

I've no more reason why I should palpitate

If she is to be shackled amid the gulag of he,

The maggot I detest nigh docks of Hell's bay.

Grief non compos mentis and as I'm never to

See her again, as my heart is as cold as snow.

Miss America of Mine

Miss America of Mine

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Monday February 10, 2014 @ 2:08 AM

Humble roots bestow her with cherry pie

The sweetest thing I know she will carry.

I stare into her big brown eyes, and she'll

Walk along that line in her heels and tiara.

She'll never have to prove to me her song,

For her voice echoes from one end and fro.

I see the halo shadowing her head of light

For she'll always be Miss America of mine.

Singing at the church of the Christ-like few,

She's the fairest belle as none other could do.

This Tennessee Southern belle has me now

As I sing along with hummingbirds her song.

She's good for you and me, see? Resonating

That song belting from that Southern voice

As I praise Him as she migrated the Natchez

As the soul of gold with a dallop of molasses.

Oui, mon chere!  Comment nous vous aimons!

The Sun and I Come

The Sun and I Come

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Tuesday February 11, 2014 @ 8:25 PM

Arise, Fair Sun! I've come to see you again

After the natural course of affair's evil sin

As we consummate a new tryst in our lore

The rapport, once worn, returns ever more.

Sing! Sing! My radiant darling, and I too'll

Seek of thee her birthright alongside of me

And the steamy residue emitted begetting

The life we once lost, but is now multiplied.

Come! Come! Our conjugal rest has begun,

For Nature only states one and one is three!

It's Just Another Day

It's Just Another Day

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Monday February 10, 2014 @ 12:50 AM

Tragedy by day, and a haunting by night,

He's a bloke morally broke, a cent corrupt

To leave you while you held his hand soft

And now, you cry, the tears all are wrought.

Dreaming away and your day was lost, but

The sands were just a goodbye to his loss.

I see within your eyes resolve as your tears

Beget anger, and your mind, a raging bull.

It's just another day of a new sunrise upon

The horizon, with a warm kiss on your cheek

As your tears dry and those sands descend.

Go out and meet Joe Blow, for he won't know

Where his soul might take him other than you.

The day is to dawn upon the rooster's crows,

Five or six, 'tis pickup sticks, your day anew.

The smile lights the once-darkened clouds of

Yesterday's fiendish abhorrent misdeeds, 'tis

Gone along as Big Ben's last seconds ticks.

The love you make will be the love you take

From a knight shining in armor you'll not bet.

Sunday Churchgoer by Trade

Sunday Churchgoer by Trade

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Sunday February 9, 2014 @ 8:09 AM

She casts her stones at the ready

Upon leaving Sunday's service job.

She bears her soul at the ready so

She'll justify her manner of plight.

A trade by any name is degrading.

She'll pray a holy roller of true piety.

She'll rob the hands which feed her

As she walks faraway fro, and how

She is among the ignorant blissful!

Puffing away at her cancer sticks,

Portly as the kiddy banks, and lo' at

How she slowly dies, her mind very

Wasted, but the American dream for

Her shall always be one gripe away

As she expects from those who pay

Uncle Sam smile, but I'll not today.

How she is a churchgoer by trade!

A Hoax of a Life I Once Knew Well

A Hoax of the Life I Once Knew Well

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Sunday February 9, 2013 @ 2:14 AM

Nine o' clock post meridian, the day is young.

Darkest of day, the light switch flipped off, and

I pray for sleep through the sunrise's blinding

Bright opaque reminder I am just a damn fool

The sleep shall commiserate in my bienvienue

As the night has dawned and I continued day

I wish never again to awaken to another gray.

Shall I seek a fortune of despair each new day

When the night never ends, a cold brisk wind

Seems to chill this burnt flesh and bone lying

In state, a corpse just breathing his lifetime's

Seeming departure from the grotesque reality

For that is what the people say, but I'll depart

You, a hoax of the life I once knew oh so well.

Break away, my soul, it'll inculcate the rainy

Every morning, but I steer clear of the storm

Always along the horizon, always brightened

Amid the sun dancing at the moonlight's ball.

Rupture my heart, for he'll never feel the knife

Assisting my soul crying out, but he'll die instead

When the wind blows his chill, killing my hope.

A Night of Lighted Day

A Night of Lighted Day

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Saturday February 8, 2014 @ 7:35 AM

Awakened, I do not deserve nor desire

For I do not possess within me any fire

As my conscience lies beneath of me

That, which foretold, will slew me, see?

And when my mind departs in finality

As I take cold and lose all personality
What say you, oh darling temptress?

Will you ascend my soul to feel bliss

In Heaven? Or play me as a requiem

And the key to Pandora's Box, I, grim?

And what say you, harlot of the Styx?

You'll have me not again to deep six,

And yet, I, the decadent, haven't a say

As I descend into a night of lighted day.

As Tears Go By

As Tears Go By

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 7, 2014 @ 10:27 PM

My mother, how I wish you could know

The pain searing within my brutish soul

When I cross the lines our paths decry

As I weep within when the clouds burst

Amid my seeking your approval in spite.

I wish to embrace of you within my heart

I have never known a peace inside exist.

Thirty-two strained years, so scarred, and

How I'll always bleed one pint everyday.

The horrors I scream amid my deafened

Silenced despair, and cry, hoping you'll

Care, and I wish to take you by the hand,

Never letting you go, for you'll always

Set free the monster just as tears go by.

Death Rides a White Mare

Death Rides a White Mare

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 7, 2014 @ 7:34 PM

Death rides a white mare.

A life ending, it is so fair.

No crying, for he will beg

Just to shut his eyes, and

Let the requiem just begin

As the choir sings the last

Song for a life so forgotten.

Lying in state, nevermore

Will the corpse cry a song

Of a once lost joy weaved

In sunrises wrought upon

Lovely, blissful possibilities

Till the night had fallen and

Twilight struck thirteen, and

She proved to him a bleak

Death without a caring stare.

Thirty Years Ago Came Today

Thirty Years Ago Came Today

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Wednesday, February 5, 2014 @ 9:18 AM

Privacy lost me once upon a time

When I was declared a heretic of

Barry's Sharia and crime, and oh

It won't be the Red Scare killing

Me with its sicle and hammer, but

The eyes of the Oval Office saying

I failed to vote the mystery man

From Kenya via way of Hawaii.

Nineteen-eighty four is here today,

As it's nigh rough sailing to descend

The Manchurian candidate we have

Living among us as a bat in a belfry,

Gliding across the air to suck us dry.

It was 30 years ago, and as if it were,

The Red Scare was an unprincipled

Soul, but dear Barry, Mecca beckons

Your call as you take Jerusalem as

Break from Hell the Seventh's calling.

Jonathan Henderson

dagan81@aol.com

Sent from my Sprint phone

Sail Away to Your Sea Among the Stars

Sail Away to Your Sea Among the Stars

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Thursday February 6, 2014 @ 7:49 AM

He dropped anchor at the docks of Loudoun

The sailor and his swanky Navy suit on leave

For a waltz upon the mountains of rocky top.

He saw a little lass three times so and sweet

Masquerading as his coy mistress in harmony

As she sweet talked her sailor for a magic ride

As the soul upon the stories of Arabian Nights,

The sailor fell for his jasmine upon moonlight.

No carpet will suffice amid their midnight ride

In the black sea bleeding into her bright master

As the crickets below herald upon the vessel's

Arrival at a new beginning sailing across the stars

To reach a land thither and an eternity away

From the common core of those not so fortunate

To know of the time the sailor dropped anchor

For the jasmine of his mind, his coy mistress.

Revolutionary Road

Revolutionary Road

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Tuesday, February 4, 2014 @ 8:06 PM

Sanctimonious blips on the ol' radar screen

Thinking they know what I should've seen,

And now sadly, I'm coerced to pay for sins

Not committed other than being like as I am.

If that ain't good enough, well bye! Giddy-up! 

And I'll hitch my wagon, cross her frontier's

Glorious fields of wheat and her amber grain.

The spirit I once knew has died! O' America!

Where have you disappeared? Why'd you die?

Coasting through bluest seas of skies, I sifted

Through my baggage, just wondering where

I will see the torch of Lady Liberty from sea

West to my tranquil waters, but then, they're

Here to take my guns, like those Red Coats

Back thither in Concord, and it seems oh so

Long how it used to be free for all to believe.

Revolutionary Road died on her cobbled streets.  

The Deafened Listener's Muted Cries

The Deafened Listener's Muted Cries

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Monday, February 3, 2014 @ 10:51 PM

He hears those cries of hummingbirds

Flying thither and hitherto, but he lies

Amid his stately walls, billowed pads,

The faucet always dripping downward,

His eyes, dilated, but he sees you true,

The sum of the parts are glue, see you?

He'll cry, yet it always remains unheard.

His arms are tied, that deafened listener,

Hearing his soul and craving yours, too,

He wishes he didn't live within that shoe,

Always the sinner one times two or three.

Sailing the black seas of fairest Thorazine

I do believe, you see? He's always to cry.

Dropping to my knees, wounded they'll be,

 Pray for his soul, for he's a wretch like me:

Let The Power of the Blood free his soul!

Tremoring his life as he screams his plight,

The deafened listener on the cold fish night

As he cries, but he cannot hear nor can we,

And I see horrors I'll not ever can believe. 

His mind is a tempest of impossible terrors,

And I? But a reprobate, his lock and key...

... O'! Let him be, my Lord! Set him free!

For if You fail, he shall sail down that river

To his sea as the sailor sans a soul, and O'!

He ain't been free! Save that deafened mute

Before Bermuda's grasps reaches out in clasp

To steal what very little soul he still has... O'!

I see! I see! Light! The Lighthouse burns so,

And He answered his plight! Bleed, Yeshua!

May You Bleed! The deaf mute, do you see?

Heal him to hear his screams, and his dreams

Shall in faith come along, what dare they be....

Il Mio Cantos per Voi (Translation: "My Cantos for You" in Italian)

Il Mio Cantos per Voi*

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Monday, February 3, 2014 @ 11:57 AM

I.

I sing to you, Isabella, my darling, dearest,

These cantos for my plight o' so sincerest.

I love only for you, oh my fairest Isabella,

When it rains coarse, I'll be your umbrella.

II.

Shall we sing to thee, my fair Isabella, dear,

Of the news? How our time has come near?

Shall we shed Love's tear amid a good cry?

Don't ask me why, my Love, don't ask why.

III.

Galloping 'cross the hillside of greenery,

I and my 'Bella a-back see many a-tree,

Then saw a specter! Shall we fly a-free?

To the sea! You and me? 'Tis His decree!

IV.

Virgin Mary and His Padre, what you say?

Bella and I shall kneel and without a delay!

You say, you say, all day, we marry today?

Upon our nuptials, I'll croon to her all day.

V.

Mystified magisterial son! Lo! How you be!

You are the one, my oracle who'll always see.

Sing! Sing! I came to thee for a read at Delphi,

And I wish Isabella betrothed me from a-high!

VI.

Si! Si! Si! And Isabella, I hope you will agree

That upon the dawn of Hesperus, we shall be

Sailing 'cross stars amid this very calm wave

We bleeding hearts pour on, Fate did deprave.

VII.

My dear Isabella! Tis our Troy forevermore,

And I shall spread to thee love to your core.

There'll not be any equine begetting us to tore

I'll sing to you, fair Bella! Lest I'm to deplore.

*Il Mio Cantos per Voi means "My Cantos for You" in Italian

She Makes Me Rise at Dawn

She Makes Me Rise at Dawn

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 3, 2014 @ 12:02 AM

She makes me rise at Dawn, and I 

Cannot hide this feeling on my set.

She terrorizes my dreams come day,

And rides me hard asleep upon night -

Oh, how I knew her well: mon chere,

I am her dog when she'll say, "Bow"!

Don't know how she gets a rise of me:

I guess she likes the motion and a bath.

She makes me rise at Dawn, and yet

I cannot escape her grip upon sunrise.

She slips atop of my ripe banana peel -

Somehow, my mush becomes so hard.

She likes the taste of bananas, and the

Fresher, oh! How she'll like it better!

Let her down that tasty treat, for she's

Never disliked forbidden fruit a fete.

She makes me rise at Dawn, oh boy!

She had gripped me upon this nightfall.

It's Saturday in February amid a snow,

And on the ten thousandth lake, frozen!

It's six ante meridian, and here is Dawn,

 Rising my sun - and she made me come -

Hither to her, for she yanks my rod, oh,

And tells me how to attach my bait, and 

Once that's done, she says, "So are you,"

And on the ice, we've founded a screw!

Les Étoiles

Les Étoiles

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 2, 2014 @ 7:02

Sailing down the stream of the Seine of mind,

Just you and I, the cheese and bottle of wine.

The accordions sing to we lovers of our find,

Dining as the river's reflecting you are mine.

Les étoiles, beneath the moonlit goddesses of

The night, and oh, I see you still singing of love

Upon this night, with the sun setting to twilight,

I slip to you a kiss and sigh - 'tis our lullaby.

A little wine? Cheese? Escargot, s'il vous plait?

The sky's the limit inside the Paris of our mind.

A little bread, you say? Oui! Carry on our way!

The Champs-Elysees while we dance, and dance

Beneath les étoiles prior our saunter down le rue,

And upon our arrival at le château de l'esprit, oui,

I'll play a tune of Bourbon court du clavecin, and

Oui! Oui! Oui! Oui! Mon amour! Tout le monde...

Oh well, I'll always have les étoiles for my song.

Mon Cher, It's Just Another Day

Mon Cher, It's Just Another Day

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 2, 2014 @ 5:46 PM

Mon cher, it's just another day

To awaken, brew some coffee:

Always good to the last drops.

Watch the eagles fly to liberty's

Drum beats, and as they reach

Walden Pond, and you're there,

Oh yes. You are. Just breathe.

The air supply ends only when

You do not seek to be refreshed.

The heart shall only bleed of thee

When you're sad 'cause your blue.

And I find the time to sing for me

As if duty calls, and Nature sees,

And I sing of all the flowers within

Her majesty's golden brown hair...

Mon cher, I plea, do not cry,

For we're not eagles, but doves

Who coast 'cross Heaven's skies.

While we fly, the angels herald

A new life by once per second.

Renewal shall be free, mon cher,

If you will just take His Hand.

Be free! Liberty's always at hand!

Phil's Spring to My Winter

Phil's Spring to My Winter

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 2, 2014 @ 4:25 PM

You rose from your foxhole, you damn Phil!

You saw your silhouette, and we'll stay cold,

Six weeks thither down the ol' calender's hill:

I suppose you'll laugh, and I see you rolled!

You damn Phil! Oh, how we'd all like to kill

For a little sunshine amid opened windows,

But you foretold the Old Man will pop a pill

Till the diamond fields and green grass grows.

Phil, this is your spring and I am amid winter!

I can't see past that blizzard's manifested sea.

With the nine inning's on, the yard's my center,

And then you'll hide your nose as you shall plea.

Damn it, Phil! Say you'll go back home please!

A week of sunshine we'll have for just a bit,

Until the next week, Jack Frost'll square to hit

Our nose, so cold, as the freezer in my home,

As I pray to once again visit my garden gnome.

The flowers cry for a splash and her sun, but

They'll not see such two or her one, the glut

Phil, that furry rodent who we all'd like to kill

Shall live to see that silhouette amid you shill!

Mere, I Pray for You Peace from Me

Mère, I Pray for You Peace from Me

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 1, 2014 @ 10:32 PM

I was born, and I'll have to die,

And in between, breathe sulfer

As my days wander while I fly

To my final aviary as I'll suffer.

No sin is too much nor less ill,

And I will sing, though that thrill

Rolled downstream post death

As crickets fiddled my requiem.

 My Dear Mère,
I pray for you peace from me

As I bent hard your mind at eve

When you sang of me deplored

As I's blinded by day, also dead,

My soul's screaming tainted me.

I beg you, Mere, hold me to see,

For I'm just a wretched soul, I be,

And now, our day è finito, I'm free!

And Mère, you are free of I, the fiend. 

The Heaven I Lack, But Always Want

The Heaven I Lack, But Always Want

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 1, 2014 @ 8:31 PM

Those angels cross those billowy baby blues

Nearly all see once upon an everyday's sight,

Yet upon my awakening, a new tempest sues,

And what was my black day is a bright night,

And I'll always seek new frontiers sans Mère.

I prayed for the light my God once promised,

But I see He hasn't seen fit, or I'm so blinded.

The sweet cherub upon that New Year's night

Never begat hope neither the Nativity's plight...

... yet I'll cry again for my sweet Mère to care.

Did Heaven ever promise each the world, say?

Do we, the people, live lives sunshiny or gray?

I still pray for an end to daytime painful night,

And yet black clouds still drown my best fight...

... the time is ticking: I'm still drowning at sea.

A Sea of Dying Dreams

A Sea of Dying Dreams

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 1, 2014 @ 6:03 AM

My clipper sails across surly tempestuous waters

As Poseidon from his abyss blew us a fierce gale.

I thought I was so fortunate, but he never agrees,

For Poseidon's exposed to everyone my failures.

I thought I loved once upon a time, at times twice,

But if I were honest, I'd said I loved all my muses

Once upon a night, but I'd say only about thrice.

Many a time, my number's been called: excuses,

Though, saved me anguish, yet torched me so...

... O'! Wouldn't you know how I am my own foe?

Still, my clipper coasts across the unsettled anger,

Still seeking my dream always definitive of myself,

And yet, I find a beautiful choir amid a foggy mist:

  Sing! Mermaids Sing! My mates and I are yours now!

So many to love, and I the poet with ink and a pen,

Painting many muses to capture their songs again,

But the notes aren't kind, and we're now quite deaf.

The songs to the men, so many, hypnotize us in kind.

Fair Aegea! I beseech of you to reveal my dreams,

But I wonder my decade of pushing a boulder high

Shall pound away at me until I'll bust at the seams.

What was once now isn't, and if ever we are to die

Or has eternal life smitten minds, yet not the heart?

I'm at sea off the Carolina coast in a triangle's feud,

She's sunk a-many brethren, her methods so crude.

Triangle, I beseech you! I am rabid; you killed me,

If I look hard, all is dark, my sea of dying dreams. 

Appalachia, My Soul is Yours

Appalachia, My Soul is Yours

Written by Jonathan Henderson

February 1, 2014 @ 1:01 AM

My beloved Appalachia, my soul is yours.

Never do I identify with that but my lands.

Autumn flames burn bright on your floors,

Mother Nature's sky torches her cold bands

As you like it! My ancestral Scots-Irishmen!

Hiking atop Mount LeConte, my kilt upon I,

Retracing my ancestors roots as they're part

Of my heritage, as history chronicles, for my

Love of Appalachia's clime hearken their start 

 In a New World: she's my ancestral clan anew.

Glasgow, Edinburgh, Fife nigh St. Andrews,

A soul from the bagpipers' highlands should

Endow their New Eden, as less meant to lose,

The Scots-Irishmen built homes of His wood:

The earth so pure, gave life where death might.

As they staked claim to this unmolested country

The likes of which I will never see thither again,

My! the master and commander of what is free

And I may only waste a precious second in grin.

This land, your land and mine, is new Scotland.

Journey into the Land of Milk and Honey

Journey into the Land of Milk and Honey

Written by Jonathan Henderson

January 31, 2014 @ 10:46 PM

The past bites taken have been bitter

Pills to swallow, and not ever finished.

The pancakes at morn with the syrup

 Are sullied even as the sugar permeates.

But I see the caravan arriving to take

Me home to Glory, my guiding equine

And scores of souls within my heart,

And I love all until the end of my days,

And I'll abscond from this murkiness

Into a land of milk and honey, per Him.

Let there be light to this new day, O' Lord!

Let freedom soar as your doves will glide,

Carrying within their talons Peace in Love,

And I will sing of my Lord praising of Him!

I'd like to rewrite a few wrongs I've made,

And though that's impossible, the soul's 

Renewal shall never be, and I will reach for

My new homeland He always promised me.

I seek my Pax Romani amid each sunrise,

To feel serene, the heart slow amid an ease,

The love of The One who loves all other, and

For all to see for Eternity His promise to thee.

Let me reach deep within, pull out my heart

As I bleed for the pitiful, and I'll pray for you

To see as do I, for though I am a wanderer,

I hear of His call to reach, to touch a troubled

Soul, to dig deep within my soul that giving

Fire as I found my land of milk and honey:

My state of mind and being has liberated me.