Breathing Room

Another day for what is according to a start,
The fine tuned lyrics without forms of art,
When heart can be thought of as soul,
Where inspiration politely pays the toll,
Again with the questions & quotes,
All of the paper filled with musical notes,
Yet not for my benefit of this life I live,
So take nothing into account to finally give,
Surround me & feel less of what’s finished,
Increasing the many things that diminish,
Or hold this away from the intent seen,
Someday simplifying all that I mean,
A message of hope, with ashes & smoke,
Recreating a form once shattered & broke.