I cannot write a single word
You have not heard before
I cannot play the unheard chord
Bestowed by God’s great score
I can’t describe the colors,
for my colors aren’t yours
I cannot see the future, nor
tell you what’s in store

I can however read the dreams
the gods wove through our lore
and see between forgotten seams
toward that worth fighting for.
I jot them down in frantic streams
and pray the do restore,
to bless this sequence of light beams
and the feelings they outpour.