Going up and going down in this crazy, calm world.
Floating over the attached world we live and die in.
With no and every cause to change and stay the same,
We stay and go while we sit and stare.
Waking and sleeping into a world of reality and dreams.
Hearing in silence while speaking wordlessly,
The days go by and stop in place.
Creativity is hard to see with easy eyes to miss it.
Around and through we jump and still.
Never be the days that are always around.
As we go over the hills and through the woods,
To our grandmother’s house we go.
It stings the toes and bites the nose.
As over the ground we go, to where the sidewalk ends.
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight.
The place where the sidewalk ends is where I met a Raven.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.”
As they say to others, but don’t at all:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So Mary has a little lamb with its fleece as white as snow,
But everywhere we travel now, we’re not sure where to go.
With money and time never enough,
We fight with days and long nights.
Together we flock in our floating worlds.
Cemented in spaces that are firmly held.
Never time to run away with always a time to stay.
Live and love and learn to say,
With words as soft and warm as day.
To always run and fly away,
The grandma and raven to us we fray.
As the sidewalk ends and Mary way,
To a good night of gentle we shouldn’t sway.
Being of us and we of they,
Tonight and always we have to play.