You were given to me
In a desperate plea
And tides swept away
My goodness swam
At the reflecting lake
Two forget for me fire escapes
And a music store junkie
With a ragged old six string
Pale and a mixed emotion
For I am not here.
I fell into a reverie that had me holding on to rainbows I thought had melted away in the rain
But my leaflets floated warily through the sea
And a mountain of opportunity opened up for me with every tree I sow
That embarked rather hastily from the peak that had the view
Though growing rather rapidly was the darkness of dusk
My fingertips lay naked tracing out the fortress in Manitowaning that climbed into a canoe with a paddle and good cheer
Listening to a song she heard floating up from reverie
Then down she plunged the great paddle that took her off upon the lake
And off towards the campfire of what’s after sweet embrace of reverie.
When a lonely mountain calls her name,
When a red sun sets,
A lake, my heart, listens intent;
A loon calls out for twilight.
And her name is here again
Amidst pines that run the shore,
Where slowly her lines
Run though my head
Slow memories drawn out into the lake
(A canoe silently passes by
As darkness settling in)
To warn me of my heavy eyes
And heart amidst the peaks
Where I shall watch again, tomorrow,
For a sun to lead the way.
Awoke into a morning haze
As clear as light blue skies
Dew has slowly seeped in to
Kentucky Bluegrass all around.
And from my perch I see the lake
All covered in lillies and pollen,
Which thrills each bird that floats about
In search of her next sup.
Sweeping poplars flank my perch
Letting in little drops of sun
To feast my eyes in ever changing
Greens and greens and greens and yellows.
Swallows circle speedily
In than out of sight
Surely having such luck finding
Mosquitos awake so early.
Chick-a-dees here sing to all
Their lovely songs in cheerful reminder
Punctuated by a friendly woodpecker
Who reminds me of my duties calling
A-rack-rack-racking on his chosen tree.
As silence closes it’s doors
And symphony erupts in scores
I listen attentive to
Catch each source, each hymn
Like dominoes it begins
First here, a call
Then there, and there, and there
Into what feels like
The whole lake’s edge alive
Conductor’s up, stage is set
Violins have all been tuned
To which my eyes then slowly find
Moonlight, and silence again.
I want to go off and into something else
I’m not here anymore, left blowing into the wind.
Where does my pain come from every night?
Leave me there, it’s in my soothing song.
It’s not lines I’ve drawn across my head
Nor lines that draw my sheet to bed,
It’s circles running down my cheeks
To smother every heartbeat I don’t want to forget.
I’ve lost the difference in my dreams,
They’ve come into my days with open eyes
Reaching out to what I see;
Reflections shaking out in twilight’s lake.
Harmony will be my memory’s drawing
As I lay my bedding down as straw,
Take my hand with what I’ve yet to say
And brush my dusty shoes so that it’s here I’ll stay.
I remember your hair when it turned black.
It reminded me of reflection off the lake
As night rolled in from daylight.
I saw ravens circling around
And the nightlife lights shining neon
In a jet set latex of thrills.
It was 70s underground
That had no part in funk.
I remember how tight the black looked,
How sharp it felt and cleanly it cut.
I could see space ships taking off
Into an outer limit that redefined blackness
With foreign substances like black holes and galaxies.
But most of all, I remember how much life
Existed within those black walls,
How friends moored for comfort
And looked for desire and found life
And how even your stare
Was pure blackness through my eyes of sight.
I remember your trance,
And how looking into it intrigued me so much,
That I knew of nothing else but the
Strange affliction it had on my pulse.
Today black is all I wear.
I cloth myself because I have become itself,
Lost in an experiment of dance,
Too foolish and too free yet
To back down and bow
Before the queen I know
The blackness you are.
And I will rest here at your feet
Awaiting the smoke to clear and
Lift the sharpness licking my brain.
I had an anchor that crossed my row,
Two by two I’d say and go.
By mystery she held me close,
Just as a panther steals deep night.
But with my heart I brought bright sun
To cleanse the soil with rivers strong.
Running wild they’d overrun
Into a lake of sunken mystery.
Here I’d find her like a swan,
Carefully bathing amidst my song.
I watched her then, as I do now,
Willing my bravery into her lungs.
Being able to take over the heart of an ancient soul was creating pressure within the young boys heart.
He saw wisdom, he saw truth, but he also saw the windows of time shift from opportunity to rest, from an ounce of hope to pains that lifted one awake shortly after midnight.
A silent lake was a window.
Like glass, a heart is precious; always suspended at the edges of tomorrow picturing faint smiles and implied intentions.
Here the young boy clutched tightly to his grandmothers pointer finger, understanding conscious kindness in her forever eyes that always found his quietly.
They were together often for this reason, but also her lemonade tasted like sweet nectar.
He would remember this as time would slowly reduce rations of nectar but still filled full with every bit of love.
Only mid-summer’s sun and a lazy bumblebee were present as Grandma smiled and laid her head against the sun chair, closing her eyes.
The young boy drew a shape of a heart on the dusty table top before he walked down the steps and out into the yard where he found his foot soldier, Rusty, the valiant family golden retriever that kept watch over the young boy while Grandma rested her smiling heart – shaded, but in the sun.