The Pristine Highway

When that which resembles Love's scattered blossoms
Of beauty from the light that retired at forgotten treasures
When the bird on the wing leaves Love's misbegotten feathers
In search of nature's beauty within these flowers perpetual springs
Make me thy harp upon which my lullaby may heal thee
Into the lilting of the musically enriching...

Yes, make music the savior from the politics of church and state
The tumult of thy mighty harmoniousness leading the way
For it is in the nothingness of scorn and the somethingness of the forlorn
Where music is all that remains
To preach Truly,
Of Love...

Such shall be that happy garden of metaphysical rotation
Which when ripened from a single drop of the pristine seeds of Love
Where the illnesses caused by political and religious manipulation
Will become the mission of one's own personal belief system's home
Make me thy harp upon which my lullaby may heal thee
Into the lilting of the musically enriching...

Our savior, from the politics of church and state
That happy garden of metaphysical rotation
Music, The Pristine Highway
To understanding Love
And hence,
An individual's expression,
Of God's good grace...

Tony Taylor