Photo credit: Marek Piwnicki

I hear his beautiful voice sings songs of hope, love,

Joy, loss, to many hearts that feels void:

In my bedroom, I lay alone and his songs keeps,

The flame of my heart burning, for his love—my true King:

I hear his beautiful voice making sweet songs, oh so deep,

To my ear, my heart: and I imagine his arms rap around,

My sacred soul that felt so old, yet I embrace his presence,

As I listen to his beautiful voice sing songs over again;

Of love to a lonely soul that wish to be free,

—that looks somewhat like me.

Empress Journee