My darling ones we’re not afraid of distant thunder across the plain. The day gone black above us forms a gathering of the perfect storm.
A crackling bolt of lightning hits. The planets’ tinder now is lit. Downslope wind brings no rain, scatters embers, and fans the flames.
Screens glowing with conspiracies, devoured whole willingly. Masses nod and duly rise and plot a course to their demise.
Their headlights pass, an endless line towards glowing orange In a black sky. But darlings we’ll endure this night And reach the morning’s Natural Light
Oh precious ones alone it seems, we shed no tears for dead machines. No binary in the fibers’ light, no digital pox, or social blight.
We huddle masked our little tribe, with gratitude to be alive. With curtains drawn sealed from the night, whispered prayers by candlelight.
The hatred shown by those we knew, spreading lies, rumors too. Lost in winter. Long in night. But our days grow with Natural Light
Tho we see things differently, we’ve a common history. Carrion prey on our discord, reap the windfall of the war. We know the way we’re meant to be: benevolence and decency. The love we show the way we should. The way we see the common good.
Eyes open now squint in the light. A new day born of night. A passing mirror glimpse is shown a price drawn more than known.
We view ourselves unlike the way others see thru our display. In direct light we see clear. Dimly lit, truth disappears.
Choice to seek light, a will to know, like moths drawn to a lanterns’ glow. The sacred shine from stained glass souls illuminates, Into night flows.
My kiddos fair, in springtime sun, reconstruction now begun. In a meadow rich with varied life we step into Natural Light
Born into a family, fifth of five. We lived beneath the same roof for some time. Then one by one we began dispersing, and the last departure then was mine. We set off for school, jobs and families, with spouses and children of our own. Now the passing of seasons dim memories of a family, together, long ago.
They wed on a Baltic summer afternoon. One year later the three of them were gone. Westward heading, they began their journey, sailing off into the unknown. The path they shared then began to widen, and one day it split into two lanes. And tho they all traveled on together, it never would return to one again.
Soon from the other side, will you hear me when I play a passage meant to move? Now my notes linger with sadness as I de-tune and lose the groove.
Both of you were born on a Monday, and from the first day you did things your way. I watched you grow and become you, and with your mother, helped you on your way. Took such pride as you came of age. My soul’s put at peace to see you two. And now, tho you live in another place, I never do feel apart from you.
Soon from the other side, will you hear me when I play in a certain style? And when there is a moment in your daydreams, may the specter of my face look upon you with a loving smile.
I walked thru their door, I stepped into the night. With the home-light burning I didn’t look back. I drove thru the night into the morning sun, down a ribbon of highway, never did look back. I tried to reason with him. I tried to calm and still her. To show the sense of doing it my way. I had no answer for them, had no explanation for why I couldn’t consider what they say. Words lovingly delivered to me never were accepted. Disregarding common sense is what you’ve might expected from A Prodigal Son.
But I saw the world turn, I saw good and the bad. I saw what I never could dream. And I lived in that world, And I loved there too. Lingering, embraced and serene. I gazed from highest mountains, to purest clouds below. My spirit rose and brushed the bluest sky. I crawled down in the valley Beside the river of sorrow, and bathed in the tears of humankind. The blessings of a dreamer child I wouldn’t wish upon you. While he dreams they experience the pleasures of insomnia from A Prodigal Son.
Wandered on back, from the wilderness, with my own kin in tow. Now I got a wife, and two beautiful girls, and they dwell in the core of my soul. I meant to get home sooner, but I am a late bloomer. They are getting older, as we all are. And then we turned the corner, and we approached the front door. The home-light’s covered, dark and cold. The flame they tended is extinguished, and my loved ones departed. We’ll raise the home-light again and with a flame will start it from A Prodigal Son.
I’m feeling their arms reaching out to me. I’m seeing their light surrounding me. I’m hearing their voices are calling me. I’m wishing to merge once again with them. To shed my earthly scar tissue then. To understand again, we have always been one, we have always been one, we have always been one, and always will be.
Two Little Birds in a feathered nest keep their parents busy, not a moments rest. Momma weaves the long grass leaves that make their small home strong. Daddy brings her twigs and string and sings his morning song.
Two Little Birds In the mid-day sun, each a little bigger when the day is done. Momma brings a caterpillar. Daddy brings a worm. One will guard and one will hunt, each one taking turns.
Two Little Birds learn to spread their wings. Cheep cheep warble twitter trill the two of them will sing. Momma puffs her breast with pride, Daddy just might cry. The joyful day has finally come, the little birds can fly!
Two Little Birds must now go on their way, one beyond the horizon, one not so far away. Two Little Birds whose parents love them best know they can always return back to the family nest.