Sorcery of the Soul

I’m not a magician but I turn pain into art In the gallery of grief I play my part A conjurer of canvas where sorrows start In the trick of the trade i throw my heart I pull hope from the hat of hurt no sleight of hand In the illusion of the impossible I take my stand A prestidigitator of the poignant I command In the performance of the profound I expand I vanish despair with a wave of my wand In the act of the ages I respond A sorcerer of the soulful I'm beyond In the craft of the crestfallen I'm fond I levitate above the lows with grace In the abracadabra of the abyss I trace A wizard of the woeful I embrace In the enchantment of the earnest I place I transmute trials into triumphs no trickery in sight In the alchemy of the anguished I ignite A shaman of the shadows I invite In the ritual of the raw I write I metamorphose misery into masterpieces no facade In the spell of the suffering I applaud A mage of the melancholy I'm not flawed In the magic of the mournful I'm awed I'm the illusionist of the introspective no mirrors or smoke In the presto of the pensive I evoke A warlock of the wistful I provoke In the charm of the challenged I stoke I'm not a magician but my art is my allure In the prestidigitation of the pure I'm sure A maestro of the meaningful I endure In the sleight of the spirit I'm the cure In the gallery of life, I hang dreams in the air A conjurer of courage, where fears dare not tread In the art of the heart, my passion is spread I weave wonder from the woes, no deception in play In the theater of the thrumming, I boldly portray A sorcerer of solace, in the limelight I stand In the drama of the deep, I offer my hand I erase anguish with an artist's gentle touch In the spectacle of the soulful, I give so much A charmer of the cheerless, with empathy I bond In the gallery of the genuine, I respond I rise above the ruins with a painters poise In the murals of the muted, I find my voice A magician of the muted, in sorrow I find grace In the frescoes of the fervent, I leave my trace I transform torment into tales that triumph In the forge of the forlorn, my spirits alight A healer in the hush, to the shadows I beckon In the narrative of the night, my verses quicken I sculpt serenity from the stones of strife In the tableau of the tearful, I breathe life A weaver of the wistful, Im perfectly cast In the mosaic of the mournful, my spells are vast Im the illusionist of the innermost, no tricks up my sleeve In the presto of the profound, in wonders I believe A warlock of the wistful, with a gentle provoke In the tapestry of the tested, I kindle hope Im not a magician, but in my art, I find my call In the enchantment of existence, I stand tall A maestro of the meaningful, through trials I endure In the sleight of the spirit, I am the cure Im not a magician, but in my art, I find my call In the enchantment of existence, I stand tall A maestro of the meaningful, through trials I endure In the sleight of the spirit, I am the cure [Guitar Virtuoso solo fade out big finish]