How delicate is this life
My heart aches for a millionth time
And my day is lost in night
See now, my anguish, my distress
Pity my poor blinded eyes
For You create the smallest things
The sparrows You don't despise
Hark now- my soul- awake, awake!
For there is none so brilliant and fair
His love, it beckons back to Him
And I would suppose, always was there
-R.A.Calabretta
(for my keyboardist)
