It Beats And Burns Poem by James McLain

Every night she comes to me,
the offer of eternal freedom how it sweetly rings.
And as for him who is my son when evening,
with a whisper comes, It comes the southern sun.

In the clearing by the brook when heavens,
never clear and clear it always seems to be.
However comes the thickest star, veiled, it cries.
And looking up you wander there about he shouts it out.
And he hears you wander all about the star light, sky.

Painful is my brain and it struggles off the edge fond memories.
As for silent music hearts insure my chest the sound of harmony.
As it beats and burns for cooler times it climbs the nearest hill.
Useless time gone by until the earth gives up the dead it took.
And it cannot turn around and look at his dreams when lost in me.