Come, let me take you by the hand; I'll lead you to a secret place
where dwells the hidden one, who seldom feels the sun upon his face.
Come tip-toe past dark memories that echo down these shadowy halls,
be not afraid... you will not stumble,
I will catch you, if you fall.

Within this labyrinth of sorrow, strewn about with shattered dreams,
discover now, the secret one... for naught is ever as it seems.
The lost romantic, pierced by evils selfish cynics say and do;
His words of love quite out of fashion; used by all...
meant by so few.

His woven words, spun soft and gentle have no place... cannot succeed,
in a world of subterfuge, mendacity, and naked greed.
What happened to the childhood truths once taught, with patience,
and, with care?
Shed carelessly, with scant remembrance;
damage, words cannot repair.

Remember then, the hidden one, who, in the darkness, must remain,
shackled to his empathy; he knows the sorrow and the pain;
and, turning back with eyes unseeing, snuffs the flame he tried to free;
his words... no more than sparrow's tears
in a sea of brash cupidity.