Another trip around the sun.
The same track as the other one.
Not the turning from last year.
But when other worlds were near.
Before we were upon this rock.
Before the last meteoric shock.
Been many times around since then.
We’ve made it past like that again.
The talk of all the change and blame.
Yet much of this remains the same.
Just as the beating of a drum.
From where the song is building from.
The sounds and voices thereupon.
The lovely beat is never gone.
Ever mild, never ceasing.
Sources holding and releasing.
A rod of light piercing my gaze.
As I leave those darker days.
From my neck I move this rope.
And tie myself to rhythmic hope.
The wave that builds and crashes forth.
The jewel in darkened skies of north.
With eyes wide open, much to do.
Upon a wave that’s ever true.
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