Recollections of Solipsism

 

Song Lyrics by Larry Phillips

 

Contents

 

1.        Every woman’s Eve

2.        Winter Night

3.        It’s progress

4.        Free-flying bird

5.        Meadow grass

6.        Summer Dream

7.        I think I’ll spend

8.        Children and Dandelions

9.        Benjamin

10.     Iphigenia

11.     I was thinking…

12.     Clue to you

13.     Skeleton Trees

14.     Weaving Woman

15.     Knight of Day

16.     Water Witch

17.     Scarecrow

18.     First-born Son

19.     Early Morning Riser

20.     Stay with me

21.     I know it is common

22.     Meadow Dreams

23.     Playing Naked

24.     Road Song

25.     Dr. Welch

26.     King of Arms

27.     Ezra Stone

                                                                               

                                                Every Woman’s Eve

 

Every woman’s Eve when the evening comes

And the sad stars sing their timeless song.

In your eyes I saw eternity

Like starlight splashing upon the sea.

               

                Who’s the one to say love wasn’t right

                When I held you that first night.

                Love can be forever or just a day. 

                The dream lives on anyway.

                I don’t want to make you cry

When it’s time to say goodbye.

                Feel the freedom of a butterfly. 

Spread bright wings across a blue sky.

 

Each man is Adam in the blinding dark

When pulse waves crash on the shores of the heart.

The full tide storm, the pull of the moon,

The fury that passes all too soon.

 

                Who’s the one to say love wasn’t right

                When I held you that first night.

                Love can be forever or just a day. 

                The dream lives on anyway.

                I don’t want to make you cry

When it’s time to say goodbye.

                Feel the freedom of a butterfly. 

Spread bright wings across a blue sky.

 

A flaming sword guards the garden gate

Where Eve and Adam of the evil apple ate. 

Our flesh is scarred by this cutting edge of fire,

The hot coals and cold ash of desire.

               

                Who’s the one to say love wasn’t right

                When I held you that first night.

                Love can be forever or just a day. 

                The dream lives on anyway.

                I don’t want to make you cry

When it’s time to say goodbye.

                Feel the freedom of a butterfly. 

Spread bright wings across a blue sky.

                                                                Winter Night

 

Bloody crimson, warrior Mars.

Weeping mother, festered scars.

Young men die in distant lands.

Spill their souls in sun-baked sand.

               

                Vain campaigns long

                Slaughter the strong.

                Our good men gone.

 

Mighty giant Orion

Protects the night from the sun.

Lovely archer, widowed bride,

Sad Diana at your side.

 

                She sheds her tears

                Year after year,

                Her rusted spear.

 

Slowly rising from the sea,

Gentle goddess Aphrodite.

Radiant daughter of the dew

Bless us with a dream of two.

 

                Child of the dawn

                You float upon

                Delicate songs.

 

                                                                It’s Progress

 

The State came in and they bought the land

But what state is this I’m living in

Where they can steal the land

Of my grandfather’s farm,

The house in which we’ve lived

All our lives.

 

                It’s progress you see;

                And if it was up to me;

                But I’m sorry.

                Your going to have to leave.

 

The neighbor men, they built their homes.

Long hours they sweat for their families.

But the State came in and took their land,

The homes they’d dreamed about all their lives.

 

                It’s progress you see;

                And if it was up to me;

                But I’m sorry.

                Your going to have to leave.

 

A bureaucrat sits at a desk,

Sees a map bright blue and green,

Signs his name and claims the right,

The right to make these people leave.

 

                It’s progress you see;

                And if it was up to me;

                But I’m sorry.

                Your going to have to leave.

 

 

                                                                Free-flying Bird

 

Free-flying bird,

Can you stay a while in my garden.

No matter what you’ve heard.

You can fly whenever you want to.

 

                But now the song you sing

                It sounds so sweet to me

                And whenever you must leave

                I’ll still have the memory of your melody.

 

Free-flying bird,

I’m like the tree that stands near the fountain.

I may dream of the road,

But it’s just like moving a mountain.

 

                But now the song you sing

                It sounds so sweet to me

                And whenever you must leave

                I’ll still have the memory of your melody.

 

 

Free-flying bird,

Frail flowers bloom in the morning.

I breathe the scented wind.

But they die if I try to hold them.

 

                But now the song you sing

                It sounds so sweet to me

                And whenever you must leave

                I’ll still have the memory of your melody.

 

                                                                Meadow Grass

 

Meadow grass, dew white,

I saw her face in starlight.

We met one windy summer night

As I slowly walked toward home.

 

Her eyes and voice a story told

Of mares, and foals, and stallions bold.

As we galloped down the road

Our hooves would kick loose stones.

 

Her hands were wings of gentle birds

And touched my cheek like whispered words

And spoke a truth I had never heard

In the all the days I’d roamed.

 

Stars were flowers in a sky field.

The bright blossoms the night yields.

I watched as she kneeled

To kiss a fragile rose.

 

The growing wind then filled her gown.

She took my hand and pulled me down.

We lay together on the ground.

She said her name was Love.

 

 

                                                Summer Dream

 

I looked up one summer day

The sky became the sea.

Clouds were bits of foam floating

Pushed by a lazy breeze.

I became a pebble

That I tossed into this sea

That broke its bright blue surface

Into shining ripple rings, shining ripple rings.

 

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

 

Gazing through the water depths

That gently cooled my face,

I saw a lovely lady there

Swimming with subtle grace.

Her hair was long and flowing

In the current of this sea

And as the gold strands crossed and strayed,

They delicately wove a dream, delicately wove a dream.

 

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

 

As I watched her wonder-struck,

She swam so close to me

That her hands touched my soul,

Her kisses tasted of the sea.

Her eyes were like to brilliant suns

Shining above her cheeks.

Her salty lips than slowly moved

As if she was about to speak, as if she was about to speak.

 

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

 

As I listened

To the rhyming melody of her words

My summer dream disappeared

The wind was the voice I’d heard.

But then I slept beneath the clouds

And dreamed of the sea-winds roar,

My thoughts returning to the girl

Like the waves that lave the shore.

 

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

                As I fell through the darkness toward a star.

 

I Think I’ll Spend All My Life

 

 

I think I’ll spend all my life looking at the sky,

Hearing thunder of the storm with dark clouds in my eyes.

I feel the wind against my face while waiting for the rain,

While waiting for the rain.

 

I think I’ll spend all my life sitting by this stream

That carved a path through the storm yet flows so peacefully.

I cup my hands. I drink this peace.  Taste the gentle strength,

Taste the gentle strength.

 

I think I’ll spend all my life walking down dirt roads

Near the meadows of sweet hay where lovely flowers grow.

I stop to rest upon the grass.  Soon I am asleep.

Soon I am asleep.

 

                                                Children and Dandelions

 

In the spring in a field by my door

Children play, grow tired, lie down, and dream.

Bright yellow suns glow in a sky of green.

Gold coins are scattered and left for the poor.

A girl weaves a crown of gold for her queen.

They touch a lion’s fur and hear him roar

                Before they awaken from their sleep of hours

                Blonde boys grow beards of yellow flowers.

 

With a breath, the soft seeds fill the air

And ride the wind on white feathers and fly.

In winter, the snow gently falls from the sky.

Balloons on long strings float at the fair. 

The muse moon smiles and seems to wink her eye.

Bubbles in the sea chase a swimmer’s hair.

                As spring is always sure to turn to summer,

                Yellow becomes white and grows another.

 

 

 

Benjamin

 

When I see a kite floating in the wind

I think of years ago and a boyhood friend.

A similar experiment brought Franklin fame.

But the frame of Benjamin’s kite became the cross on his grave.

                Benjamin, without a second chance to lose.

                Benjamin,  your future lost in your youth.

 

In a painting, sparks jump from a key to Franklin’s hand.

But current blasted through Benjamin casting glass from sand.

Intersecting lines of aluminum and copper.

The crossed wires of pleasure and power.

                Benjamin, you heard what the thunder said.

                Benjamin, lightning white and blood red.

 

When the cord was cut, one became two at birth.

The child filled his lungs with the new air of the earth.

But like a stray kite he was pushed by the winds of life

And crashed back to the ground.  The end of his brief flight.

                Benjamin, your kite string became a thread

                Benjamin, of an altar cloth for wine and bread.

 

When the mirror was held to his open mouth

The reflected sky no longer filled with his clouds.

That canine anagram cannot appease

My thoughts of his death on the breath of the breeze.

                Benjamin, where are you now.

                Benjamin, I think of you now.

 

                                                Iphigenia

 

While waiting for a whisper from the woman of the wind

I climbed an ancient Druid oak and sat upon a limb.

Posed like Rodin’s pensive man, my hand beneath my chin,

I thought of all the time I’ve lost, the wisdom I may win.

                                Iphigenia, Iphigenia

 

She is a lovely vision.  She dances in my mind

But the bloody blade was cutting cruel although she was always kind.

To fill the sails of her father’s fleet, she gave up her live.

The paternal plot, the daughter’s death, the stupid sacrifice.

                                Iphigenia, Iphigenia

 

How can this murdered maiden’s loss have been worth the warriors’ gain

When I see in every storm, her tears fall among the rain.

So I will scale the years like the stones of a broken wall.

To her spirit I will sing, her name I’ll sweetly call.

                                Iphigenia, Iphigenia

 

Her voice is like the breeze that blows in from off the sea.

The wind-borne words she murmurs float like leaves to me

And she says to me:

“I will stop your worries and make them fly away.

Let my fingers touch your hair, I’ll kiss your eyes and play.

Lie upon your back  and look up at the sky.

See my face in every cloud and hear me softly sigh.”

                                My Iphigenia, My Iphigenia.

 

               

 

                                                                I was thinking…

 

 

I was thinking of your graceful ways

And the freckles on your cool smooth skin,

How we danced among the waves

And ran from the breakers rolling in.

Waiting for dawn beside the sea

You whispered softly as I held your hand

As we lay upon the sand.

Watching the stars in the depths of space,

Loving the scent of your soft red hair,

Feeling your sweet breath on my face,

Into your eyes I had to stare,

Knowing I was far from harm

Lying in the comfort of your arms.

 

 

                                                                Clue to You

 

It’s said the Muses of the sacred mountain

Taught the sphinx the riddle of every man.

Oedipus found the answer yet to his own fate was blind.

It took the passing of many years for him to solve his own crime.

                I try to solve a riddle new

                I search for a clue to you

 

It’s said Theseus used a skein of thread

To guide himself through the turns of the labyrinth.

Leaving as victor and not victim from the lair of the minotaur

His hands held the cord that provided his escape through cruel corridors.

                I wander in a maze known to few

                I search for a clue to you

 

It’s said Alexander fulfilled the prophecy

When he untangled that knot in those hills far from the sea.

He left that place in Gordia to conquer distant lands,

Aided by that ancient aegis and his skill of sword, mind, and hand.

                I’m caught between the sky and water blue

                In a net of knots with no clue to you.

 

 

 

                                                                Skeleton Trees

 

In my dreams I feel my flesh fall with the falling leaves of skeleton trees.

The seeds of summer rot in the gutter with their withered wings.

                How many days have I wasted,

                Wasted again, wasting away the day?

                And how many tears have I tasted,

                Wearing away the pain like a rock in the rain?

                                Skeleton trees

 

My son’s skull rests, an egg in the nest of this bony hand.

My wife’s love sparks the knot of this heart to the heat of the winter hearth.

                How many paths have I wandered,

                Feet in the mud and head in the clouds again?

                And how many times have I wondered

                In this race without goal, the source of my soul, my friend?

                                Skeleton trees

 

Steel teeth reveal within the trunk

The rings of age from sapling to stump.

Two trees fall; one without sound,

The other clutches branches as she falls to the ground.

                How many days did I play

Safe from the sun in the shade of your outstretched arms.

And how many times did I find shelter

Under these branches that lie broken on the ground

                Skeleton trees

 

                                                Weaving Woman

 

A woman sits at a loom

Weaving scenes of winter moons

Summer nights and autumn days

Frozen waves on sunlit bays

 

Scarlet thread within her hand

Becomes a maiden’s ribbon band.

Windswept hair surrounds her face

Blushing cheek and bonnet’s lace.

 

Wondrous magic soon occurs

Laughing eyes, a single word,

Weaving woman’s bedeviled ring,

This blushing maiden begins to sing.

 

                                                Knight of Day

 

Ever riding westward, racing with the sun,

Silver sword and bridle, see his stallion run.

They call this man the knight of day

And in his leather saddle he’ll stay.

He gallops through the meadows

His hands tightly grip the reins.

He sleeps in forest shadows

And bathes in crystal pools of rain.

 

He hears the lusty crowing of the red-combed cocks

That strut behind stick fences and gates with wooden locks.

Their morning cry of joy and praise

Lifts the sun about wet fields of hay,

Wakes peasants to their labor,

A mother to her son,

Who sucks the milk of nature

From the gentle breast of love.

 

Stopping by a river beside the drinking flocks

His horse bends to the water, hooves clicking on the rocks.

A shepherd lifts his bag of wine.

The rider says: “You are so kind

To offer me this swallow

Of your tasty wine,

May your lambs grow as fat

As the grapes upon your vines.

 

Visiting a village, he sees the busy shops,

The merchants and their money, a sinner in the stocks.

Bold children touch his horse of grey

And dodge the rolling wagons as they play.

The drifting scent of bread and meat

Leads him by his nose

To an inn on a dusty street,

A pouch of tanned hide holds his gold.

 

To a maple table, a woman brings his meal

In a wooden bowl with a large cup of ale.

He asks this maiden her name and thinks:

“What a lovely mare to tame.”

Dreaming and drinking, sits the knight of day

Who watches the woman and wonders:

“Should I wander or should I stay?”

 

                                                Water Witch

 

One spring day I saw a woman called the water witch

Who discovers underground water with a stick.

She holds the branch tight in her hands and points it to the sky.

The growing wind then fills her cloak and carries her eerie cry.

                Her eyes seem as bright as a fire in the night.

                Wild birds will not fly when she passes by.

                They watch her gracefully wander among the trees.

 

She walks through grass and flowers above the water vein

That she knows flows deep beneath like a rivulet of rain.

The warm sunlight on her face is softer than the sigh

That she breathes when she finds sweet rest beneath the pines

                On needles piled deep where she waits for sleep

                Or on a soft moss bed, fern pillow for her head.

                She lies beside a stream with her magic dreams.

 

When the branch bends slowly down and points its mystic way

To the water deep beneath the sand and rock and clay.

She throws back her hair of black and laughs her joy so loud

That her voice climbs to touch the cloth of ragged clouds.

                In this place she’s found, she falls upon the ground.

                Damp earth to her cheek.  She hears the water speak

                Of melted ice and snow, of oceans long ago.

 

                                                Scarecrow

 

The scarecrow stands upon the hill and shakes his linen arms

To frighten off the hungry crows that circle around the barn

And wait to raid the planted fields of this fertile farm.

                You guard your fields ‘til sunset

                Until the grass is due wet.

 

But when the stars begin to glow above his fields at night

He forgets his lonely task, damp earth, good seed, and daylight

And waits to see his lover’s face and her smile moon bright.

                For when the moon shines on you

                Your lover’s fingers touch you.

 

Soft sunlight on her face, the moon bends to touch her lover

Who waits below in the field and smiles when he sees her.

His days are long and watchful hours but his life has its delights

When his lover returns to him when he rests at night.

                You guard your fields ’til sunset

                Until the grass is dew wet

                For when the moon shines on you

                Your lover’s fingers touch you.

 

 

                                                First-born Son

 

As the first-born son of a father’s second chance,

I’m skeptical of certainty and cocky confidence.

But I don’t doubt one absolute:  the wonder in my mind

When stars like snowflakes float in the autumn night.

                Don’t stop, stop believing

                Don’t stop,  we will soon be leaving.

                Don’t stop, stop becoming.

                Don’t stop, a killing frost is coming.

 

While the great bear circles his northern den,

I stare at Polaris to get my bearings again.

With the journey half-done, can I look back with pride

Or is my life a mirror in the dark, a candle in sunlight?

                As a boy, I saw the sunrise shadow

                Pointing west and I would follow.

                Tonight the moon rises full.

                Moving west, it looks like a skull.

 

Though the days go by

For you and I my friend,

On the star path home,

We walk alone in the end

                I see lines of light as meteors

                Skip across the sky like flat stones.

                Inside, the electric snake’s hydra heads

                Wriggle in the wires of the Net.

 

Another dreamer wakes from sleep to view the evening sky.

Gemini rises in the east like a pair of eyes.

What have you seen across the million squared miles and years?

This light that has traveled a lifetime to reach me here.

                Like new snow in the low sun of mid-season,

                Or the flashing facets of her grandmother’s diamond,

                Or light passing from pinhole through prism,

                These stars sparkle with a rainbow’s spectrum.

 

The wings of migrating birds fan the sparks of stars.

This wind feeds the forge and dawn’s fire starts.

Instinct-driven, these geese fly to the heat of the south.

I return to the marriage bed and the warmth of wife and house.

                I follow a string of streets from work to home

                Like a guide rope gripped in the storm.

                On this dollar-shaped lot, I find a moment:

                This line of birds draws her silhouette.

 

                                                Early Morning Riser

 

Early morning riser looks out toward the east

Sees the lovely Venus and then goes back to sleep.

His dreams are of a woman and the pleasure of her skin.

                Misty veil found at dawn will vanish with the day

                Evening stars disappear, darkness slides away.

 

Gentle flow of color, horizon and sky.

Drifting dance of the clouds, silent black wings glide

Lifted on my laughter that’s carried on the wind.

                Bright circles of the sun fall through crowded leaves

                Shimmering white upon the wall the source of all belief.

 

Kind blue water mother continues in her way

The cycle of the passing years the end of each  day

As the sun is swallowed by the western sea.

                Crescent moon still follows eager in the chase

                Pale shadow of earthlight shines upon her face.

 

Autumn twilight walker finds a distant world

Formed of fragile moments, the dying sound of words.

But the air grows colder and slips beneath my shirt.

                Streetlight sterile light scrapes the paving stone.

                Worn shoe heels soon return. The room that is my home.

 

                                                Stay with Me

 

Biting teeth of the icy breeze

Scar the bark of the silent trees

Nip the tail of this leaping flame

Crimson horse with a fiery mane.

                Stay.  Oh, stay.  Stay with me.

                The night’s so cold.  Stay with me.

 

Waiting hands of the winter ground

Grasp the dust that is falling down.

Mold cold clay on a potter’s stone.

Glaze white drifts a sun-bleached bone.

                Stay. Oh, stay.  Stay with me.

                The night’s so cold.  Stay with me.

 

                                                I know it is common

 

 

I know it is common

In this world we live in

For people to be lonely

But tell nobody else.

Afraid they are saying

Something too degrading

But their wishing and their waiting

Will bring no one around.

So I’m singing for her

Hoping she may remember

A time in the past whenever

She was lonely herself.

 

My life is much too lonely

Without a woman to console me

To kiss, and love, and hold me,

Giving what I need.

But if she came tomorrow,

I’d still sing my song of sorrow.

I can’t buy, beg, or borrow

The meaning of these lines

Because its what I’ve been seeing

While staring at the ceiling

Watching shadows stealing

The sight from my eyes.

 

 

                                Sweet Meadow Dreams

 

The sun is on the hillside.

I hear the whistling sky

And see a flock of blackbirds

Floating swiftly by

Above a clover meadow

On which lovers lie.

                Sweet meadow dreams

                Sweet meadow dreams

 

Flowers in the meadow

Are waves in a lovely sea.

                Breezes brush their petals

                And bend their stalks of green.

                The sun touches my lady.

                Her hair softly gleams.

                                Sweet meadow dreams

                                Sweet meadow dreams

 

                A plane’s silver belly

                Scrawls with its vapor tail

                A word upon the sunset

                But winds destroy the trail

                And tear clouds of saffron

                As the day fades pale.

                                Sweet meadow dreams

                                Sweet meadow dreams

 

                Firefly constellations

                Fill the field at night

                Now my lady is sleeping

                Beneath their fragile light

                I clasp my hands gently

                And catch a star is flight

                                Sweet meadow dreams

                                Sweet meadow dreams

 

 

 

               

 

               

Playing Naked

 

The surf-tossed shell lies within the reach

Of the children in the sand on the shore at the beach

Their skin darkens: day, dusk, to night.

The same sun reflected in full moonlight.

                And they are playing naked.

 

Lovers uncover secrets within the walls of leaf rooms.

These moments won’t be swept away with a green bough broom.

In the dappled sunshine and their reverie,

They float like winged seeds flying free.

                And they are playing naked.

 

For the movie in your mind, let this be the score.

Eat the fruit of the arrange and taste the sweet core.

Hear a single note within the chorus of the chord.

Let the notes like raindrops form a solo storm

                And now I’m playing naked.

 

 

 

               

Road Song

 

A storm is on the way

And the wind begins the grow,

The leaves begin to shake,

And the dust begins to blow.

You don’t know what to take

Or how long you may be gone.

But, you know that you’ll be late

And your directions will be wrong!

                But just sail on, sail on, sail on down the road.

                Hear the wind sing, wind sing, wind sing as you run on down the road.

 

It’s easier to love the road

Than it is to settle down.

It’s easier to love the road

Than to settle for some town.

All I seem to see

Are walls within a box

And the dub-lub of my heart

Is the tick-tock of the clock!

                But just sail on, sail on, sail on down the road.

                Hear the wind sing, wind sing, wind sing as you run on down the road.

 

When I was just a boy

I grew up on a farm.

Under the circle of the sky,

Everywhere I walked was home.

And like that childhood toy

Of a stone tied to a string,

It’s time to release the cord

So I’m free to fly again

                And just sail on, sail on, sail on down the road.

                Hear the wind sing, wind sing, wind sing as you run on down the road.

 

 

 

 

 

Dr. Welch

 

I was thinking of you Dr. Welch

When I left the factory late tonight.

Other folks are working overtime.

Cars in the parking lot, bright street lights.

 

I thought you would like to know how we’re doing.

Four score and five years since you died.

We’re taking orders and shipping product.

The changes you’d see, you’d be surprised.

 

                Think of the business you started.

                Think of the people you’ve helped.

                Think of the families supported with the patent you won.

 

You made a fine choice for a partner.

He carried on after you were gone.

He felt the rain but kept on building,

Like another Noah of long ago.

 

Now, after generations, son to son,

Your products travel the world

With new ideas and design improvements.

Dr. Welch, you should feel very proud.

 

                Think of the business you started.

                Think of the people you’ve helped.

                Think of the families supported with the patent you won.

 

 

 

 

King of Arms

 

The sun is on the rise

And fills the hunter’s eyes

With a vision of the kill

If his aim can match his will,

If his patience can match his skill.

 

He hears the rustle of the leaves

As the buck walks among the trees.

He aims and fires his gun.

Blue metal gleams in the sun.

The buck begins to run.

 

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide.

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide. 

 

He takes a second shot

And now buck blood flows hot

On the flashing surrender flag,

The frayed and red-stained rag

Stealing breath like a gag.

 

He leaps from his perch

Like a hawk diving toward the earth,

Like a hungry hound,

His scream an ancient sound.

The buck lies on the ground.

 

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide.

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide.

 

No need to tell today

Of the one that got away.

But you’re a stranger here,

So keep your mind-sky clear.

Your pride can cloud the real.

 

Always watch your back,

In case you are attacked,

Because the buck’s drumbeat heart

Could lead the final charge

That could tear you apart.

 

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide.

                Better run. Better run. Better run. Better run. Better hide.

 

Ezra Stone

 

Ezra’s stone stands in the sun in the park

And its shadow slowly traces an arc

Across the mown lawn beneath which there lies

Anonymous companions, unknown lives.

                The pages of records, the list of names,

                Lost like leaves blown by wind and rain.

                Or written in water,

                Or spoken in the storm,

                Or a forgotten verse from a song.

 

Few graves are marked with chiseled stone.

They were stolen for steps or walls of homes.

Headstones are scattered all across this town.

Trees now stand full-grown on sacred ground.

                Their roots reach deep within each heart

                And, like sap, their souls climb up from the dark

                Soil of their silence

                And sit like children at play

                Among these branches today.

 

They watch me touch this marble stone,

Once polished, and smooth, and white as bone.

It now feels warm and rough to my hand

Like the callused palm that once worked this land 

                With the faith of the farmer who planted his seed

                And dreamed of the harvest

                Not drought and weeds.

                I gather thoughts like embers

                And from ashes build a flame

                And now your spirit lives again.

 

And like a boy in a one-room school

Who listens to a lesson seated on a stool,

I hear you speak of stones stolen from monuments.

I scavenge these for simple shelter of single moments.

                Your children lie beside you in your rest.

                I recall the sound of my sleeping children’s breath.

                Your wife lies beside you,

                As does mine in our double bed.

                Our lovers lie waiting in darkness.