Lyrics – January 21, 1991
The sunset touching the sunrise – ever ending summer The crashing notes ascend upward Spiraling downward toward the heavens. I reach out to them, But they touch me first – Slippery and effervescent, Airy and formless, I cannot hold them So, I am lifted upward with them, Lifted like Icarus, filled with the sound of its music. Caught, I dance among the clouds. We embrace in the moonlit mist. I touch and I feel touched, Touching inside. Yearning, churning, Wanting differently, I want nothing but the same. To be touched, to see beauty, to know that I am loved. I reach among the birds, Caught, I am free to reach for the notes about me: Everywhere in sight. ** Rushing lions pound my brain. The sands kick my face until I bleed, And I no longer hear the notes; Tranquility, Serenity, And sleep. Stillness… Quietness… Echoes of reflections. Gray haze, streaked by quiet lines of contrasting darkness, Reassure me that I am alive. Joy fills my solitude. Lions, sleeping no longer, lay with lambs. The notes are now still, beside my spirit. The sands are warm, I sink under them like a blanket. They cover me, protecting, Ensuring that no harm, No danger, or malice will threaten. Downward, falling, Upward lifting, Ascending on angelic devices, Peace. ** The Ballroom is not quite five years old, For the floor still shines, a little. A little like the music that strains to tell my ear, That yearns to herald to my mind, The question of our arms outstretched – Dancing on the old mahogany floor That has lost its shine. Its glow of summer is almost faded, Almost gone from memory. Notes arise, I think I hear them, I think I can almost touch them, Almost. Like a curtain Intermingling melodies Tease your hair upward, Crashing my heart downward, Dividing my memories from my memories, Freezing them into escaping notes. Arched ceiling, gilded columns, brightly painted Hollow theater, lost outstretched The stilled band packs you, forgotten. ** I was child then, Scared, frightened of the ever-stretching horizon I could not comprehend. I tried to touch it once, But the wind knocked me down. When I got up, A bird flew overhead. Its song careened mystically, Drawing me near to follow. Hesitating, I lost myself in the hesitation. Sinking, panicking, I flung my arms to stay afloat. The tears fell, bruising my body, Until I died in my own pool of emptiness. Notes dance above me, Mocking, to some, But not to me. I hear them calling, Pleading, begging me to follow, To lift myself on my bruise and broken legs, To wobble, to do anything, But stay crippled on these reflections, This void of desert, soundless emptiness. ** Rushing lions pound my brain The sands kick my face until I bleed And I no longer hear the notes. Tranquility, Serenity, and sleep. Stillness, Quietness, Echoes of reflections. Gray haze, streaked by lines of contrasting darkness, Bring peace to my world, My often-forgotten world, The world in which we struggle. No waves, no notes, crash upon that melody that is my mind. Only birds disturb the stillness That is their right to sing – Upon the uplifted currents of air That carry them to the stars; That place of quietness that is their home, The destination that is left untouched, That stretches before the ever-ending mind, The imagination cast stranded in the eye of the hurricane. ** The crashing notes ascend upward Spiraling downward toward the heavens. I reach out to touch them, But they touch me first - Slippery and effervescent, Airy and formless, I cannot hold them So, I am lifted upward with them. Lifted like Icarus, filled with the sound of their music. Music that tis the very reason, The very meaning of the toils, Tears and hopes Cried on the pillow sheets of all who dare gaze upward. Ninety-three million miles upward, The sun is far away, Shining, lighting the path, calling loudly, Sending out notes like breadcrumbs “Follow me home, Come out of the forest and touch me.” So high away, so ever ending.
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You, my Love,
Are my heart's desire, Your kisses so sweet Fuel Love's fire: A fire so hot, No wall can contain it, A fire so deep That rain cannot reach it; A fire so holy, My thoughts are purged by it, A fire so consuming That evil must flee it. And as I sit here, Lost in my thoughts Of having you near, I dream of a quest To ensure our eternal rest. But the long night pursues And the clock ceases to tick, My flesh goes limp As I dream of you. And again in the morning, Mind does remember, And the fire grows brighter As my feelings stoke the sleepy coals. Yes, you, my Love, Are my hearts desire, Your kisses so sweet, Fuel Love's fire. |
AuthorDouglas Sexton started dreaming as a poet. Always a dreamer... ArchivesCategories |