My Movable Feast

Wrapping up my third music project; my first vinyl record album edition, my last word was “hope.”

Teaching at an art school in Kansas. It was the time of my life!

A time of passion and wonder; exploration and foolishness.

Soon after I finished my music, I found out that I had to go.

I spent the next 50 years wandering about the Northeast and mostly, New England.

I searched the rest of my life to somehow return to where I had been in the beginning.

But I never found it. However, I took that time with me where ever I would go thereafter.

I drove around town in my beautiful, new, light green Camaro.

I found some random spot and took one last photo of my dream I had to leave behind.

And then it was time to go.

Over the factory,

over the fields and steams,

I have touched my own dream.

Of a light, and a portal,

reaching out to me.

As we sail through the dark,

at last, we can see.

Over the mountain range,

over the boiling sea,

locked in love, yet free.

Of the night, and the dawn,

and the sound no one hears.

We are out and we are safe,

from the fire in their ears.

Over the melting ice,

over the rivers of red,

to ceaseless love, we’ve been led.

By the beam, through the pain,

reaching out to touch.

I’ve been up all my life,

and yet there remains so much.

Over the catacombs,

over the church and store,

like the light, we can soar.

To the ends of time,

and then back again.

We’ll be up all our lives,

in love that never ends.

Over the tress of black,

over the fusing sand,

an ocean of glass, by no one’s hand.

As my eye travels the beam,

sailing into distance unknown.

To touch the hope that always is,

and know it will go on.

Over the factory,

over the fields and steams,

I have touched my own dream.

Of a light, and a portal,

reaching out to me.

As we sail through the dark,

at last, we can be free.