Drift is life inked without passion,
Bliss is the turn of pages stained with your visions,
Happiness is tracing the lines of your soul spilling mystery,
Angst is a blank screen that should contain your poem.
Joy is many squabbles filling pain's urn if the rumble is you,
Pain is a long day done without Skylark song.
You are myth true to form and flesh.
Your are a gift of verses.
You are a gift.