Everything is broken now.
Everything is whole.
Everyone is wondering
How to heal their soul.

Nothingness is calling me
into rooms without a view.
No one here is willing to
be here before they’re due.

No one’s happy.
No one’s sad.
The music here is pretty bad.

Until you came and sang
your song.
Until I saw both right
and wrong.

No one’s happy.
No one’s sad.
The music here is pretty bad.

And then I rose to where you are.
And saw you singing on a star.
The music here is now sublime.
I think we slipped the ropes of time.

Vicki Woodyard