My lyre, a godly gift,
It echoed through the woods and through the fog
Clearing the mist inside my mind

My thoughts, a bunch of words,
Tangled up since the day that I was born
They echoed a silent prayer

Was I the composer of the sounds that embraced all life?
Or was music the one that shaped me instead?
My self, an array of endless possibilities and stories to be told

My golden curls, reflecting the rays of my life's sun
Formed a halo on a head so heavy with the weight of a sacred talent
One that I always have possessed

My eyes, now sharing the same shade of blue as the sky,
Were fixed on the horizon someone had painted long ago
"I am no painter", I protested, "but I too can offer life"

And as my lyre followed the rhythmic movements of my fingers,
My heart ached in its solitude
For I had known a love so rare
A love I feared that I'd lose