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This is my Beautiful Song


by Darryl Price


I don't know who it's for. It 
could be you. I hope it is. 
I really do. But the point 
is to sing it while I am 
me. To call it forth while I 
am still here. What else is there? 
I'm the poet in the poem, 

so that makes me the poem 
inside the poet. Is 
there something more? I don't know 
if that matters. But getting 
the song right matters to me. 
And by that I mean without 
lying or pretending or 

just being bored. My own beautiful
song didn't make me
hard inside. For that, I am 
thankful. Open up your heart.
That's a central part of it
for me. But I also know 
each one of us has to find

a true way alone to the 
one way. Even surrounded 
by those who always care about 
us. My beautiful song 
is a funny good feeling, 
I remember as always 
around. Even during the 

darkest years. Regardless, it's
here with me now and I'm singing 
it into this poem's
ear, into this tree's branches,
this lonely day's hour for you 
to maybe hear, too. My song
is alive as long as I 

am honest. Who would have thought 
that would be true? My beautiful
song is the way that I 
understand everything. My
beautiful song is flying 
as before like birds going 
to a silver lake. Even 

if it doesn't make any 
real difference, I mean every 
word. Keep your heart open. 
My beautiful song without
any telephones. I'm glad
to have spent this time with you.
Let's do it again sometime.


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