Vernacular Spectacular

I keep my eyes open. Watching, waiting, always ready. I keep my ears peeled, for the sound of your voice, ever present; the melodic chorus reverberates in my soul. You are the rhythm that keeps me moving, you are the rhyme falling from my lips, you are the only truth that my arms hold. I try to explain my faith, but they only laugh. Mocking. They ask if I believe in magic. And I ask if they believe in the Sun.