Mayflies rise, in clouds ephemeral, like rainbows high like bubbles in the sky ... like bubbles ...
like flecks in an opal ... lullaby , lullaby
to all creatures under heaven there is given one bright day, sad as silly mayfles dancing
forth from a summer stream, caught in a sunset beam dona eis requiem.
   

 

Echoes of summers long gone, wrapped up in a
hand-me-down songThose images weathered and worn,
remembered each time we went out walking the dawn ,
and didn't we love to kick up the hay? old summers,
old yesterdays ...

Golden Autumn air
where swallows and martins danced their convoluted pairs
didn't we join them, dancing too? before they parted,
flying to distant shores to warmer fields anew -
with equinox due

Autumn gale and winter rain,
and snow falling in it's season,
and warm beneath the bright white earth,
the promised seeds of Springtime slept, in safety slept
all winter through.

With the solstice breaking
the moon called the seeds to awaken
and we felt the wakening too
when the winter sun broke through
welcomed with Fire between two ancient standing stones ,
welcomed him home.


Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine
et lux eterna luceat eis, dona eis requiem .

water and air and fire and earth
all weathered by time, compounded.
Out of such clay a frail vessel make,
where life is grounded,

and forms of the ocean silt and sun and crumbling ores
reached complexity on ancient shores

the thunder as midwife and light'ning as guide,
born of the sunlight, and rocked by the tide.

 
Born of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight, the apple buds
watch the apple blossoms are opening, opening, opening,

Sometimes I find I'm wondering at the way of things,
worried and wondering ,at how ev'ry thing seems to be fragile
like an apple bud, in an orchard opening.

Sometimes I hear a distant bell leaning on the air, sounding the passing knell
for ev'ry thing I care for seems to be so fragile ..
.like an apple blossom caught between late winter chill and the hope of Spring ,in an orchard opening.

Once upon a time before before the chill and the chime,
time for pleasure, and leisure to turn a blind eye.
Now a bell's sounding now the warning bell sounds
all the trick'ling sands are run down,
not from the hourglass but out from the desert and onto the pastures
both silting the rivers and burying houses.

So sometimes, when the setting sun, floods the fields of spring,
I'll find my thoughts will run on how ev'ry thing seems to be seems to be so fragile,
seems to be so frail ...like an apple blossom in a desert opening

 
   
 


I took a path by chance one idle hour found dewy fields deep filled,
where peeping flow'r so Heavy with nectar, dizzy with fat bees
sang in the laughing grass and summer's ease ....

There plump wood pigeons swam the azure skies in measured dance among the butterflies
that rode the cloud and pollen seas, safe in the laughing grass and summer's ease

Then time and circumstance bore me away To trouble in the make of men.
to toil ..... to where tattered plastics shrouded out the day
in barren streets, where metal burned in oil ( Dies Irae ! )

Where promisory notes blot out all prayer,
cheap soiled flags, to mask the reek that creeps ticking, ticking ( Dies Irae ! )
An Oriflame to scorch the dying air
and seethe the very heavens while they weep, they weep ( Lacrimosa! )

I, yearning, sought my country path again
found gasping grasses, brown among the mire
where naked branches scourged by winds of fire ( Dies Irae! )
and birds long spent, dropped to the desert pyre, the desert pyre ….

( dies irae. Dum veneris judicare seculum per ignis! Dies Irae! )


 
(Miserere, Miserere, nobis nobis Miserere, Miserere, nobis nobis )

Sunset ....... the last trumpet sounds, the last candle quenched, the curtain rattled down.
All that glory! spent in pomp and show, all those promises now crumpled up and gone!

Our mother .... rich in soil and seas, rich in sun and rain, and green vitality!
Dust and gone now, litter in the wind ...where no bird shall fly no tree shall root nor thrive.

Revelation is knocking, hear the breaking seals that mark the coming end of days !
If only we could turn away from this present path, and make the world again
Miserere mei, salva me! fons pietatis salva me!

 
 
     
 

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