A voice lost is a voice found.

But where is that voice, pray tell?

Search through the bowels of
Hell
and fly to the loftiest clouds in
Heaven
but you’ll not find that
voice
there.

Search inside the house of God
and tear apart your messiest closet,
throwing out your
demons
and your
sins.

Wring your despair and hang it
on a clothesline.
Make a declaration of reform
and put your right hand upon
your word
that you will keep every
promise
to pass your lips.

Give nothing to the poor and
waste yourself
until not even your
consciousness
can keep you from crying yourself
to sleep each and every night
you still breathe.

Stand with your back to the
cliff
and fall backwards into
empty air
with nothing but the
shock
of nothing to
catch you
while your grave lies in wait
on a dust riddled ground
in the middle
of the day.

Sing, sweet lark.

Sing my last song to me.