light

the birds they sang at the break of day
start again I heard them say
don't dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be

ah the wars they will be fought again
the holy dove she will be caught again
bought + sold, + bought again
the dove is never free

ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in

we asked for signs, the signs were sent
the birth betrayed, the marriage spent
yeah the widowhood of every government
signs for all to see

i can't run no more with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud
but they've summoned, they've summoned up a thundercloud
+ they're going to hear from me

you can add up the parts but you won't have the sum
you can strike up the march, there is no drum
every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee

ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in

that's how the light gets in

'Anthem'
Leonard Cohen

wild card inside

A new leaf, new life kinda day. I suppose the same could be said of every day. We move from one moment, to the next, to the next. There is utter newness in each instant as time moves steadily, undeniably on. Life will not be denied until it's knocked down dead.

A new job, a tentative return to the blog, one big sigh as I edge closer to optimism + regain a sense of intense gratitude for the life I lead.

This morning's songs were doing that prophetic thing, making me bounce down Johnston Street in spite of the heat. Past the random array of shops, galleries, bars, mysteries. Cats in shop windows + a turtle swimming slow circles in front of a velvet curtain. Propelled onwards + upwards. This new life can be good, WILL be good, if I let it.

I feel it all, I feel it all. The wings are wide. Wild card inside.