Was it a dream
Where I wandered off the trail
Aimlessly drawn
And came to a clearing
On the hill of town
Still hearing calls
And a circle of stone
Surrounded a pool of black water and sky
Where I reached in and pulled out a song
Ceremoniously young
I think I dreamt it
Standing on the street in the wind looking south
Hunting for singing
Indulging imagining words in the wind
But nothing means nothing
Everything is fleeting
Don't get used to it
I say, look upon the ruins
Two distant branches on the hill
There's no song, no sacredness now
What I'd called the spirit world blows into dust
Like me, and the song
Born of alienation
Ancient questions
Answered alive in me again
Indulging imagining words in the wind
But nothing means nothing
Everything is fleeting
Don't get used to it
I say, look upon the ruins
Voice in the branches
Pulling me still.
