the jarring road
the blue sky
the wind
the sorrow
the rhythm of this day carves birds from my bones
and they fly they fly
becoming the morrow
I am of dust and sweeping grasses green
the passage of clouds
sky a blue I've never seen
the blue sky
the wind
the sorrow
the rhythm of this day carves birds from my bones
and they fly they fly
becoming the morrow
I am of dust and sweeping grasses green
the passage of clouds
sky a blue I've never seen
the humming
the buzzing
all around all around
sweat sticky & nectar sweet
(apparently)
wildflowers yellow as far as the eye can see
the jarring rattling road
the bluest sky
the ceaseless wind
the hollow sorrow
the rolling rhythm of this day widens my heart
and it beats it beats
becoming the morrow
to hold this course
to raise the hope
chase the dream of something wider
something vaster
something beyond the grasp
becoming the wind
becoming the hollow
becoming the humming
becoming the sky
becoming the blue
