Here is my new symphony No. 50:
And, this is the poem I wrote to go along with it:
"Lay it there forever"
The unjust annihilation of my usual dream began.
We dropped into the port, making a passage of the sea.
Our ships come to a world, this trusted terrain,
But it's never quite possible to book a dependable way.
Baby fish in the lake work all the while
With the fallen debris of the furrows.
The years are ocean tides, fair and smooth images,
Strange spirits to all, reviving the peaceful man I am -
A life halting in the shade, knowing this place.
Far over there the fire, flames racing and roaming;
Numerous fallen trees are not enough to be enough
In the course of an idle mountain.
A precipice of life is viewed,
After my miserable and inferior birth,
In a cover of thought like much
Of old clouds seen from lonely places:
So are joined my thoughts of you.
This calm fullness, nothing, nothing equals it,
Hunting for roses in the evening
Around the drooping or mown grass.
Living in young life
Making the fouled soul fairer.
All is blue here
In a time wider than the air.
A blessed day to recover
The truth late in life.
And a taste of love and life,
A scholar unto each,
Moving with a kind of knowledge.
The self is made of time,
All of it decays with time,
Even the bravest are not done.
A fire in the sunlight is glittering
Lost in the ends of a field -
All a long terrain
Under a cover of heaven
Sent through that exit
The power to give life.
All could be free;
And wondering at the help
Some face the way
Knowing how to read the terrain
To people that sky.
The sick, lost in a gulf,
Looking across the grassless miles
Of one proven ocean,
Have only a frequent question
Leaving this to scholarship.
It only weighs a little -
A foolish moth who is in trouble.
A youthful night casts
Shades hopping over the grass.
The bumbling noise of bees
Just became an old prayer,
Just an old prayer that works,
Well spoken words of them
Who know to wonder at the divine.
- Billy
And, this is the poem I wrote to go along with it:
"Lay it there forever"
The unjust annihilation of my usual dream began.
We dropped into the port, making a passage of the sea.
Our ships come to a world, this trusted terrain,
But it's never quite possible to book a dependable way.
Baby fish in the lake work all the while
With the fallen debris of the furrows.
The years are ocean tides, fair and smooth images,
Strange spirits to all, reviving the peaceful man I am -
A life halting in the shade, knowing this place.
Far over there the fire, flames racing and roaming;
Numerous fallen trees are not enough to be enough
In the course of an idle mountain.
A precipice of life is viewed,
After my miserable and inferior birth,
In a cover of thought like much
Of old clouds seen from lonely places:
So are joined my thoughts of you.
This calm fullness, nothing, nothing equals it,
Hunting for roses in the evening
Around the drooping or mown grass.
Living in young life
Making the fouled soul fairer.
All is blue here
In a time wider than the air.
A blessed day to recover
The truth late in life.
And a taste of love and life,
A scholar unto each,
Moving with a kind of knowledge.
The self is made of time,
All of it decays with time,
Even the bravest are not done.
A fire in the sunlight is glittering
Lost in the ends of a field -
All a long terrain
Under a cover of heaven
Sent through that exit
The power to give life.
All could be free;
And wondering at the help
Some face the way
Knowing how to read the terrain
To people that sky.
The sick, lost in a gulf,
Looking across the grassless miles
Of one proven ocean,
Have only a frequent question
Leaving this to scholarship.
It only weighs a little -
A foolish moth who is in trouble.
A youthful night casts
Shades hopping over the grass.
The bumbling noise of bees
Just became an old prayer,
Just an old prayer that works,
Well spoken words of them
Who know to wonder at the divine.
- Billy
