C R O S B Y

Welcome to my world, my soul's soundscape.

From the sterile and brightly lit corners of a psych ward someone once had a dream to create music.

Dreams that I sung as the sun slowly died,

my heart had  ceased once controlled by my mind--

the graceful ever suffering...

Blood to the heart once the light filled the sky.

Teach me to hear a reverie, track the chords and the count... 

Dance with me in wild fire blooms, bursting and swiping tails blank...

Slowly, I wanted to

take the pain from misery and tell them what is left.

Psychosis 

of 

Dreams--

The next place we must all go

is the place in our hearts.

Sing with me:

"heart speed, heart speed".

We traverse the deadly mark of rest only to wake.

And truly a psychosis it was--

my years, and yours

left scars on our arms,

left trails in our brains,

met change in our hearts,

and redemption in our imperfection.