Counting stars by candlelight all are dim but one is bright; the spiral light of Venus rising first and shining best, from the northwest corner of a brand-new crescent moon crickets and cicadas sing a rare and different tune.

Every song falls short of the glory of what a song could be. That's why the urge is there to start again and yet again. Often it's the fault of rhyme. I've discovered a hundred times that there just aren't enough rhymes to say what I wanted to say, so I said something else instead. Sometimes it was a better thing, but the thing I meant to say went unsaid. So there's an opening for another song.

Once in awhile you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look it right

I feel I've got 10 books in me.

Ain't no time to hate, barely time to wait

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you

Inspiration, move me brightly, light the song with sense and color, hold away despair