Inward Song

I sit upon a leather stool
And touch the keys so smooth and cool.
A sturdy perch, a steady eye -
I take my aim before I fly.

My running fingers stretch my wings
As hammers downward strike the strings.
A note, a chord, a melody -
Progress into sweet harmony.

My bird-like song is twisting now
And changing with my sobered brow.
A playful tune is fine to start,
But soon my fingers speak my heart.

With darker tones I speak of sin,
Of darkness deep and strong within.
I mourn perfection lost to me
And others that I long to see.

A harder, louder, faster pace -
The turmoil not just on my face.
My hands, they speak, "My God! My God!
Have mercy now and spare Thy rod!

"My heart would e'er do all You ask.
See penitence behind this mask
Of contemplation, solemn bliss.
My heart, Lord. I have naught but this."

And soon a peace within me grows.
My frantic movement, now it slows.
Arpeggios - the tune grows kind
And ease o'erflows my troubled mind.

My melodies are never quite
Enough to get my feelings right,
But God above, He sees and knows
My inward song and how it goes.

For few this language ever speak,
And fewer still resolve to seek
A melody to call their own;
No hidden tune, but one that's shown.

But I, I pray that God above
Would look upon this child in love
To grant me this - on His bright shore
That I may fly forever more.