The Lost Stranger
There are dreams that have been forged in the dusty recesses of his mind,
As a wandering stranger snores beneath the candescent moon.
Rising to the golden radiance shimmering through the sheers of his mind,
Slowly roused from the inebriation of the night.
And when the dreams of the night refuse to bid adieu,
He must know it is time to free the voice incarcerated in the gallows of his mind,
For this is the voice of a soul that pines for a listener,
As it croons a poignant tale of yearning.
Oh lost stranger! Listen to thee!
For when the sweet melody of the soul finally breaks free,
The glow of the darkness shall fade away into the brilliance of the day,
And the surreal hope spun by the night shall lead thy,
To the untraversed path of salvation and joy.
There are dreams that have been forged in the dusty recesses of his mind,
As a wandering stranger snores beneath the candescent moon.
Rising to the golden radiance shimmering through the sheers of his mind,
Slowly roused from the inebriation of the night.
And when the dreams of the night refuse to bid adieu,
He must know it is time to free the voice incarcerated in the gallows of his mind,
For this is the voice of a soul that pines for a listener,
As it croons a poignant tale of yearning.
Oh lost stranger! Listen to thee!
For when the sweet melody of the soul finally breaks free,
The glow of the darkness shall fade away into the brilliance of the day,
And the surreal hope spun by the night shall lead thy,
To the untraversed path of salvation and joy.
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