Monday, May 18, 2009

Father FortyNineOhNine...

The fields are flat and empty,
It's bounty is underground,
The moon is full, humming like a neon light,
The window has no walls, it's not there,
Did you ride the iron horse?
Does the road own you now?
Is every part of that tree you,
And a little of me?

I heard you whispered through the breeze,
And through the sea, to your brother,
I heard you held back the storm,
If I dropped the line, would it hit the bottom?
If I caught you, would you have forgotten?
That you had died?

I remember you without a face,
White cotton wrapped, like Egyptian Kings,
Though you slept in wood, and not in stone,
You had no fancy clothes, no fancy gold,
But you still ruled my earth, you rule my dreams,
You are still, my distant King.

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