I search my soul with tireless reverie
for the song to put forth in ink
and with unwavering devotion,
I frustrate my passion
into minced psalms of love,
yet so is the woe of an artist
so is the tale of splintered quills
do the geese cry?
or laugh at my inane attempt to fly?
but I am grounded with granite
as I sketch the song of my soul
words can no longer suffice
prose no longer qualms
my inspiration,
my love,
my love that shall last forever more
my love that shall go on to love another
my love that shall hate me only to love me again
my love that shall tear upon the walls of my heart
and unleash a swelling of ink,
rage and tears shall fall
but always
always my love
To my dearest Chelsea,
I love you,
Dad
