Destiny took my hand away
Like a leaf upon the meadow
Floating and opaque amidst
Ten thousand blowing stalks.
A river sprung from sweet Gaia
Hard Winter’s brought again
There to find me upon a knoll
Lost in reverie.
Sometimes it is better off not writing,
Enclosed in a Tear soaked memory;
Our plans were always laid there bare,
Stone ground and visiting from afar.
I wish I could have seen you through,
There is no doubt it could have always been.
This sadness has my collarbone,
For I rest uneasily
When the wind blows like the sea
And you return to my memory.
Have you ever had the chance to leave your mind?
Take a running start and leave it down there
Magic in the heart and two more memories.
Makes me wonder where you’ve been gone so long,
Followin’ a path that weaves and lifts
Hollys and ferns and lichen too;
Rhythm and your blue and jubilant see
Fire in the palm of every river in you.
Happy is a guess I never dreamt for me,
I took another train through desert and stream;
Golden hours awaited at the end of a dream,
Though I never dared come again here.
Lonely is a story best served in the dark
That smells of an old wine and gold bound book,
Flipping to a page that never looked so good.
Words don’t make sense, misunderstood,
And a hollow in the voice that spoke to me.
Gibraltar in every step at the foot of the bed;
Carry it again for the weight in my head
Is following a noise at the tip of my tongue,
Carry me alone, so I’ll suffer there instead.
There’s a funny bone in my heart
That keeps twitching when I wake
When I’m alone at the start of days
Trying to understand
What took you from my open hands
To the rocks outside my door
And every one I see out there
Says the same thing back to me
A blankness that hadn’t yet been made
Close spirits in the sky
That rumble back and forth aloud
Language I cannot translate
That takes me back to my awake
So silent here I cry.
I’m not singing for my lungs
Though they burn with desire,
No, the sweetness has left me hoarse
That burns like whipping dirt
Blowing about this barren desert.
It used to come in fits
Where I’d collapse in imagined euphoria
I had never before experienced.
My dreams lay me still here,
Though I cry out
With the neighbours howling hound,
As singing awaits
Within the embers of my soul
My fire remain unconvinced
That this landscape
Deserves such escape.