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LITTLE GENTLE EMPTY HEAD 12/2011
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A bobbing globe rests carefully above the newborn neck
Soon strength of morning fades into darkness
Dreams are filling an empty head, drifting into afternoon
I wonder of his dreams, brand new and in the beginning
Does milk flow from an endless breast ?
Do chimes toil below a sun filled skylight ?
Where does the soul wander ?
What generates thoughts from the seen and unseen ?
The mostly unknown
Brand new and undetermined he lays like an unsolved puzzle
I can choose the placement and direction of assorted pieces
I may decide the future and his fate
He is not mine, a daughter's child, I ponder the difference
Subtle and sublime the differences mount yet the challenge remains the same
I fight to understand it all, obligation and desire, dedication and fear
Still no emotion grapples with his sleep
Peace and contentment reign, oblivious to all
Keep this time, revel in simplicity
Tomorrows bring pain, love, suffering, joy, needs and desire
The clock begins the race
The clock is not a fair measure of time
Wishing makes my dreams his own, I touch the future
Struggling mightily against the fish tugged line
The young boy laughs on grandfather's boat
Motion brings their hands together, a sudden smile and a heart filled laugh
The old man moves back in time, another hour thought forgotten
Alive the memory serves, tradition falls along the path of family
He walks the trail in a snow filled park, branches bow to the weight
Looking up the old mans face distorts, reveling in another story
Stories he won't hear at home, he smiles knowing the difference
Winter winds will not disturb the warmth they have together
Another brick into the pyramid of life
A young man sits at a worn wooden table, some marks are his own
Blood red sausages fry in a black iron pan, smells waft into the morning air
Great Great Grandmother and the mountains of Spain, she is here as well
Stuffing seasoned meat into it's own essence, long ago the mixture made
The old man brings them to the table, telling the story, adding company to the eggs
A sound, his eyes open, he sees the infant stirring
Give away what you were given, share a heart that finds what's true
Find a piece of life to live in, give the boy a part of you
Take his hand into the future; build a soul that conquers fate
Leave a legacy that's past him, hurry up it's not too late.
Lifting him I shout with purpose, Dawson Dawson, child awake!
Soon strength of morning fades into darkness
Dreams are filling an empty head, drifting into afternoon
I wonder of his dreams, brand new and in the beginning
Does milk flow from an endless breast ?
Do chimes toil below a sun filled skylight ?
Where does the soul wander ?
What generates thoughts from the seen and unseen ?
The mostly unknown
Brand new and undetermined he lays like an unsolved puzzle
I can choose the placement and direction of assorted pieces
I may decide the future and his fate
He is not mine, a daughter's child, I ponder the difference
Subtle and sublime the differences mount yet the challenge remains the same
I fight to understand it all, obligation and desire, dedication and fear
Still no emotion grapples with his sleep
Peace and contentment reign, oblivious to all
Keep this time, revel in simplicity
Tomorrows bring pain, love, suffering, joy, needs and desire
The clock begins the race
The clock is not a fair measure of time
Wishing makes my dreams his own, I touch the future
Struggling mightily against the fish tugged line
The young boy laughs on grandfather's boat
Motion brings their hands together, a sudden smile and a heart filled laugh
The old man moves back in time, another hour thought forgotten
Alive the memory serves, tradition falls along the path of family
He walks the trail in a snow filled park, branches bow to the weight
Looking up the old mans face distorts, reveling in another story
Stories he won't hear at home, he smiles knowing the difference
Winter winds will not disturb the warmth they have together
Another brick into the pyramid of life
A young man sits at a worn wooden table, some marks are his own
Blood red sausages fry in a black iron pan, smells waft into the morning air
Great Great Grandmother and the mountains of Spain, she is here as well
Stuffing seasoned meat into it's own essence, long ago the mixture made
The old man brings them to the table, telling the story, adding company to the eggs
A sound, his eyes open, he sees the infant stirring
Give away what you were given, share a heart that finds what's true
Find a piece of life to live in, give the boy a part of you
Take his hand into the future; build a soul that conquers fate
Leave a legacy that's past him, hurry up it's not too late.
Lifting him I shout with purpose, Dawson Dawson, child awake!