I was once a Mo(u)rning tide,

Lifeless due to the moon's Departure.

And so I'd push back into the Sea and hide,

because my purpose was unsure.

 

   I was once a Mo(u)rning song,

Without melody due to the bird's Migration.

And so Everything I did felt so wrong,

because it all resulted in damnation.

 

   But the Words were of Comfort,

and the rhymes tickled my heartstrings

and No matter how Absurd,

the Words became a lovely Wellspring.

 

   The Essence of the word

is the liberation of my Soul.

 

   I was once a Mo(u)rning Songbird,

Dismal due to Aimlessness,

and so I Conformed to the consequence Incurred

because I lacked Emotional maintenance.

 

   But the Words liberated my Soul,

and I Became the Morning Sun,

no longer chastised by the Rabbit Hole.

And the Words became my Loved One.