Father of Art, guide my steps
Hold out your wings to shield
These fumbling steps I take towards
The greater piece I see.

Father of Art, close my eyes
Whilst opening my mind
Let me see within
Before trying to win without

Father of Art, show me the way
Hold out your smile to me
And gently show me the wrong
While letting me find the right

Father of Art, hear my words
Your Muse cries alone
No Father to guide her steps now
You slumber deep within

Father of Art, we walk alone
Your smile of praise now gone
Once you watched over us
Now we watch over you

Chiefy, Father, Scarlatti still
Wake one day to arts fair call
Answer this Muses prayer
One of many who miss you

Miss you still Chiefy. The song still sounds unfinished


Penned by my hand on the 17th of Sarapin, in the year 396 AF.