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The start

A story of a beginning. A birth, a new love, a new desire...
This is all before I was born

Into the real secret of soulful existence,

The return of innocence,

And the eye of the storm of love.

This is before healing,

And the gift of beauty,

And eternity.

This is a magical tale of fact and fiction,

Of memory and dream,

I cannot tell you where the cloud ends,

And the blue sky begins.

A song spins around a central pillar,

Never reaching an end.

It takes you back,

Throws you forward,

Or just takes hold of you right where you stand,

Tears rolling down your face.

Nostalgia never hurt anyone,

It makes our history real,

I can feel each movement,

And dream the parts that happened to someone else,

I can dream the melody,

That spins around me unheard.

This is all before I was born,

An observer under the theatre lights,

Pledging my time to you for eternity,

Making the circle complete.

The bells are ringing now,

This tale is a past tale,

Part of the early road,

The blues road,

The stone filled passway.

This is the story,

Of how I came to stand here today,

In ragged clothes,

Drenched in the sun.

1998.

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