Always In a Distance Coming

Caught within the echo of the whispering pine Whose bough shall sound a creaking wind. Pleading us enjoin her labour Giving birth to songs we long to sing. A song we’re taught That springtimes coming won’t be long. That standing on a mountains past But for an instant we may rule our world; Sunrise/sunset there before us; flag unfurled. Footsteps crunching on the crust of every snow Setting deep within a magic glow To keep us warm To give us hope Always in a distance coming Morning sun to evening star Always not so far. Silence in between The sound of each man’s soul. Blade of grass to dance Sway with every gentle breeze. Fall away to prayers offered up From bended knees. Every moment lingers until Those fingers turn another page And this we name as age While mountains nearby still erase The face of every man. In depth of height All blades of grass Exchanged for flakes of snow. And this I know: “not to dream… but be a part of all that may be dreamt.”