The music is the only thing we keep
In all our journeys here on Mother Earth.
It fills our minds with dreams of worlds that leap
Into our thoughts, of worlds before our birth.
The words we sing are not the same each trip
Through time. They change. They grow. They lie.
They spring unbidden to each rose-born lip.
They fade like roses and, like roses, die.
The melody goes on and on, the key
To heaven's vast, eternal symphony.
I've heard your laugh before, not in this life.
It soothed my heart to sleep, before the fires
Of many hearths. It rescued me from strife
And filled my soul with surfeit of desires.
I've heard your laugh before, in other times.
The joy we shared was balance to the pain.
We loved. We fought. We dreamed. We chanted rhymes.
We've met before this life. We meet again.
Come laugh your age-old music through my soul,
And, as before, come make my spirit whole.
Come walk with me again, through golden wood,
And hold my hand in yours, beneath the eaves
Of ancient oak and elm, and be so good
To sing again your song of dying leaves.
Come walk with me again, in prancing pace,
The blossomed field where once we danced at night,
And run with me the cauldron's leap, the race
Of life, the mincing minuet of light.
Come walk with me again, around and round,
And let the ancient magic still be found.
Bright flowers spring unbidden from their limbs,
Like telegrams from generations past.
They sing to us their long-forgotten hymns
And fade to stars when life is done at last.
Each year the pattern holds, of life and death.
Each year the blossoms come in awesome dream.
Each year the earthsome goddess holds her breath.
Each year the ancient trees aren't what they seem.
Each flower is a newborn baby's sigh...
Each leaf the swaddling clothes to keep it nigh.
Our infant in the air. Another time
We dreamed together in the woods, and sang
Love songs. Another time we fled from crime
And lost our lives, our loves, as voices rang
In anger through the hills. I won your heart
Another time; we fled the irksome wars.
Another time you kept yourself apart,
And sent me off in search of endless stars.
Another time, another place of dreams;
The world is not the simple space it seems.
These breasts I've touched before, in other times,
On other bodies, warm and soft. I've felt
Their love pervade my soul like voiceless chimes
Of tenderness that make the cold heart melt.
These hands I've held before, smooth or rough,
A thousand thousand hands that clung to mine --
Their strength so great that loving was enough,
So stirring that I had no need for wine.
And yet . . . and yet with all the lips I've known,
Each pair was really yours and yours alone.
Each time we board a different craft to make
Our journey's way -- another boat, a new
Sail kit, another crew to help us take
Her down the stream, to safely see us through.
Each time seems so familiar and each knot
We know we've tied before; each member of
The crew seems but a ghost of journeys not
Forgotten quite -- each touch, remembered love.
For time is but a highway through the stars,
And we but passengers in cosmic cars.
When all seems lost, and darkness rules the land,
And every tree and tor bows to the night,
Then do we search the skies 'neath which we stand --
The stars are pledges for the morning's light.
When life is done we never know if birth
Will follow soon or ne'er. Life's sleep does seem
So final to our walk upon the earth.
Does death end all or is it but a dream?
In those long moments after loss of light,
We know the day is hostage to the night.
My dreams traverse the universe to find
The souls of stars upon the cosmic rim.
And deep within their hearts I travel blind
The plasmic mind, the cataclysmic whim.
My dreams leave time behind as they go forth
Among the stars. My yesterday is tied
To my tomorrow. South is west is north,
And night is day, as on through time I ride.
These thoughts are not the fantasy they seem;
My life is but a distant sun's fond dream.
The love we shared will still be strong, and last
A million years and miles. The loves we felt
Will span the cosmic wastes and form the stuff
Of future dreams. For our eternal past
Is formed of love, as tender feelings melt
In cauldron'd time, and that shall be enough.
When death comes calling in our midst, we miss
The gentle smile, the knowing look, the touch
Of someone's hand. We miss the loving kiss.
Accustomed love we miss so very much.
But death can never take the whole of life
Nor cancel out the gist of being's gift.
The essence of reality is rife
With new beginnings; cosmic law is thrift.
How death can still the pleasant voice, but not
Remove the essence of eternal thought.
Of voices that could not be touched or seen,
But only heard o'er vasts of empty space.
Lost souls were we with chasms in between!
We ached inside to see the other's face.
Then life appeared throughout the cosmic waste.
We stars could place our souls within the forms
Of living flesh. Oh ecstasy! to taste
The touch of life -- the joys, the dreams, the storms.
The human soul is star stuff wrought in flames,
And cast in human flesh for cosmic games.