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I will not call him
I will not speak out his name
And summon him to my side
I will not take the peace he offers
His lyre is in my hands now
I will play his songs
My fingers will pick out his melodies
But, elusive, I cannot hold them
This lyre sings for him
Why does it groan in my hand?
Soft notes sigh for him
For me they jangle and jar
His melodies usher in peace
He opens to door to stillness
His music comforts me
And my soul is restored
Without him
Anguish steals though the door
Comfort is absent
And distress overpowers me
I wrestle with the strings
There is only noise
No sweet songs
To lift my fallen spirit
Why must my peace
Rest in his hand?
Each time my heart betrays me
Falling under his spell
David, my servant, my son
He slays giants with a stone
He slays thousands with a sword
He slays demons with a harp
His name is on my lips
I shout, “Come quickly!”
And when he plays
My heart will find rest
I lay down his lyre
And grasp a spear
I will claim back my peace
Even with his blood
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