Didjeridu, balm for a shattered ego.
Deep, deep downnnn at the source of it all.
A vibration worthy of a throat singer, no,
downnnn, wha, wha, among the oms that fall
from the center of dreamtime found among
the sparks of a dying camp fire and bull roarers
in the wind, when you sing your own song
and no one knows or cares how your spirit soars,
just that it does, and you can see all around
the world, but...but more than the world, you
travel with the sparks to the stars found
at the beginning of the universe and beyond to
the time before time and before that,that, that!
When all we were, were notes on someone's chart.