Scraps

A song well writ, each tone in place,
An' harmony's approval marked upon
The temple's face. Rancor was gone,
And envy. Desperation too
Had been dispelled by grace,
Found in the heart's deeper numbers right,
Dug out dark ciphered clay, unleashing light,
Replacing what was lost with what was true.
A song well writ, the singer and the sung-to, You.

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