Heartsong

Angelic songs of Ancient days

Woven from the heartstings of men,

Like freedom’s keys, but freedom’s stays,

They will not lend themselves to pen.

On hearts and minds and souls they’ll dance

Through uncried tears and silenced glee,

Within emotions taken stance

But never in a book to be.

They whisper through a frigid chill

A hollow tune of heightening,

Or in a melting sun, distill

Those dripping rays with happy tears.

Echoing through depression’s blue

With mellow strains that pull the heart, 

Enchanting quiet meadows, too, 

They sing a calm melodic art.

They pulse with a furious heat 

In the mad storms of anger’s grip

And susurrate a tender beat

That fills the sails of ardor’s ship.

Melodies murmured in the mind,

Songs drifting like a river’s flow,

Free from parchment, unconfined,

Will never quill and paper know.