I know bliss; can you hear my
trumpet blow? This is the
noise of splendor, acceptance, the sound of my
newfound joy. Now raise your
instruments, brothers and sisters; play all the
music with pride – what’s there to hide?
Speak our language with the sharpest, most unapologetic
reckoning of rhetoric, for we now get it.
We. know. bliss.
We. know. sight.
We play the notes and the chords of our freedom,
all through the eve, into the twilight.
We. know. bliss…
from. this. brass…
making up for the time lost…
blessed for the time we still have.