Swankly flow of glistening gold
I am now free from cravings of old
Entering earshot of divine foretold
The Hero is young but wise like a toad

Taking nothing but receiving freely
He gives what is His, no he gives of Himself
A God in disguise, as a worldly illusion
There is something here, beyond the confusion

A tale of Heroism, beginning at Dawn
It ends when the Hero has composed his Song
A tale of spontaneity, of frivolous wonder
​A man in a world, adventure asunder.

She calls herself the Seer
Ironic then that I saw her first
Meeting in the square of Old Sir Church

She had a vibe, I do recall
Could even tell from afar
This girl would go far

Maybe it was the way she politely chatted
In an honest and carefree way
Or maybe, hey, who am I to say?

I wrote her a poem
And she wrote back
And now we've even had a chat

It seems we do see eye to eye
An infinite many things
And an infinite amount of time

But what to do, with all this freedom?
It's simple
Follow your heart, and listen to love

In this moment we are all one
And I'm starting to think there's virtue in fun
Let my work be a reflection of love.