Stars are slippin' softly by the window as we plane
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The ripple of a song comes filtering in without a name
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The flower in your hat, transports me to a house
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Aflame, she by the fire, a man there thinks to douse
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Following conversations like a beggar through narrow streets
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Fingers reached and touched, a feeling never seemed so sweet
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All the tears of living, cascading clothes to the floor
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Embark upon a fevered trail, of great unspoken law
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And you call me father, courter of the skies
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Inborn, melt together, route earthbound lonely spies
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Guarder of light, watch over us
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Lord of the living, breathe in our dust
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We ache for nothing, more can we ask?
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Sublimation
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| Peter Koppes |
