There is a wisdom
from the sacred book
that surpasses all understanding,
it circles the planets
and weaves a thread
by which the stars are held in place;
and on a moonless night
it thunders as silent tears
down our cheeks.
There was the voice,
the lyric and the song,
the piano man playing
a long shaft of light
that reached from the dawn
into the dark heart of night.
Lost in a tide of red light,
blinded by the white,
this highway
no place for the weary,
close an eye
and you lose your sight.
You lock me up for my words,
stitch my mouth closed
and drive the nails of fear
through my heart;
but listen,
the faint beat of a drum
sounds still.
We are all keepers of the gate,
pick-axe pioneers of the road,
our strong shoulders carry the load,
challenge the face of fortune and fate
and polish the eyes of a child.
Below the birds, the ocean stretches wide;
above, the sky hangs grey and low
covering the wake of the sail boat
as across the void it quietly floats,
falls over the horizon
and leaves a space where once you were.
And I wonder about the sparrow,
if all sparrows are the same,
a universal bird that everyone knows
yet it lives without a name.
Neatly packed is this childhood of mine
around the patriarchs and matriarchs
who buried joy in my deep heart
and kept me from being torn apart.
You took flight
like the fat sparrows
from my deck
and carried my cargo
with you through the door
that opens and closes the space
between time and eternity.
Below the birds, the ocean stretches wide;
And above, the sky hangs grey and low
Covering the wake of the sail boat
As across the void it quietly floats,
Falls over the horizon
And leaves a space where once you were.