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.