Milling crowd,
A distant bell
Full moon silhouetting
The world on its shell.
A shell from the silver ocean
Screeching of the white gull,
Black onyx, wet and rolling
At the edge where water stalls.
Water stalling and painting
A foamy line
Billowing blue clouds climb
Up to the infinite sea;
It is as it was, is now, and evermore shall be!
Stair upon stair they climb and descend in equal number
Progress leaps with thinning bubbles
Dancing madly over the drummers.* *[Graeme Edge]
In archaic beats
Plying time into fours and threes.
The fading moon greets the parting clouds
Sudden in retreat.
Pale walls obscure the resounding light
Of Mare Tranquilitas---The Sea of Tranquility.
Thickly shaded deciduous greens shift to sinuous grey glances
As the singer sings:
“Lovely to see you again my friend,
walk awhile with me ‘til the next bend.”
World ever changing
Yet changing ever the same,
Hayward’s guitar resonates over
John Lodge’s thundering bass line
Indicating silence and intermission…
Ever the milling crowd,
The aroma of a dark roasted Starbuck bean.
In a land that freedom once boasted,
Full moon silhouettes the deepening shades of blue
Dangling with hopes for the triumph of the True.
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