In frostbitten midwest prong
Among the iron ore laid long
Awaiting, carbon ash, as song
Of a past it did not belong
Exiting the times of old
Empire cities entered bold
Offering songs, to us sold
Words, the debt of him, now owed
Utterings beyond the years
Parchments of ten thousand tears
Perfected by succumbing fears
Bella Donna muse at the near
Coal transformed to brilliance
Stirring wasted souls to dance
Hearts weep from the pointed lance
Melodies not born of chance
Earthly displays eternal gift
Causing mortal spirit to lift
Meanings renown men to sift
Time’s-a-changing, ever shift
Formless creature born of sand
Temporal as the flashing pan
Stockpile tunes in memory’s hand
Grateful where the ash did land