The Blue Book

Who Are You?

Who sat at the fire,
lighthouse of a living race,
and watched the world tumble
all about them.

Who found a way to forgive
himself for the role she played,
figured out how to give
his whole heart back.

Who traced herself through time
to a tune made up of every human
name until she grew tired,
humming the remainder into his heart.

Who heard a lullaby for travelers
from a war-torn place
once called home,
and raised hell for the chance to atone.

Who wrote a journey through song,
a grail quest caught on green notes
and reflected in Cape stone, still
echoing our first sound.

Who sat with an old friend now found,
strumming Eddie Vedder to some sticks
destined for divine reality
and cried their heart to this true sky.

Who could not kill the dream,
for it seemed, somehow,
more dramatic
to dance again with death.

Who looked that lion in the eye,
and knew complete terror:
tied up, trembling, still bound
to tell it all.


Follow the sun

Or call it dreaming

Look: wild geese

Burning bright