omething's there we can not see
Only feel of that there melody.
Words are woven into a web
Needless words, although, are said.

elease from us our worst desire
Stir up hate from gracious fire.
Melt us down with no suffice
And tell of when they've bearen ice.

ightning crashes and relieves its power
Red rose blooms, Black rose flowers.
Merge into an energy only few can grip
That's why they call it the Love of Music.

Copyright © 2000 Whimsical ~Ivy~

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