getting there.......

have you reached......?
but you're still thinking the words of your song......

you're still wondering if it's over.....?
you're wondering if it even began.....

you know you want a hanging snug sweater......
the colour of a forest......
a green as deep as a dream.....
and  not the sweet sort......
but the private ones.....
that make absolute elusive sense.....
with the trippy mandolin playing ....in the spaces of your hair.....

say what you need to say......
let that random rant mean the song of mourning when the last ship sails away.......
take a moment to sit on the dock wasting time......

let the vintage voice show you the way ......
you must dance through the mist to determine your steps......
the song knows the way......
listen to it.............


And while you do that......
Feel the crisp luminescent grass crush and dissolve into a light beneath your bare step...

the words in this voice....
on the torn page...and the ones left unspoken...unheard........
floating on the river............

chanted everyday in the heart of that monk in that monastery lurking on that hill.......

resonating through minutes.....

dancing at the teeth of that dog swaying in that smile while he rides immersed in wind that smells of poached sunshine......
keep on driving.........

forget those words.........
just remain here........