Featured Poem: Seven Heavens - Micheal Ace

Songs have souls...

Like how spirits lift themselves without wings.

My body becomes home for goosebumps

Whenever the choir cut themselves

Into fragments of frail lyrics.

The blood in my head is a kind of music

Something deep like the intuitions of a mermaid

Who lost her beauty to a shipwreck.

Something soothing to bruises and wounds.

Even with broken strings of guitars,

Lost keys of organs and bent drumsticks.

There is music coated in my platelets-

Submerged in fluids but breathing fine.

I'm speaking in the language of wind

Because I know how weak the choir's trees

Can thrust into the ventricle of the earth.

I'm speaking in the language of water

Because I know how hard their limbs will limp

When they swim through the rivers of rhythm

And I'm speaking in the language of fire

Because I know how far they can walk

When rain beats the sun to their heads.

I am more than what the choir sing;

I am the music of the gods.

Genre: seven heavens:
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