- Books, Literature, and Writing
At the beggar's ball we watch our charming fires,
We sing our songs about love & try to catch the fiery gems.
All those chiseled impressions from time & music,
Never appeared on my face as sadness or wicked malice.
Our journey of inspired selfishness has finally run us aground,
Now music is our only friend.
Don't weep for those who had haunting higher hopes,
Their rising echoes fill the halls in my head.
Wipe the tears & calm your fears,
Find a place to sit, find an empty chair.
We'll close the doors & be polite,
While fervent, music fills the concert hall.