I will solve my riddle to the sound of strings,
Here’s to the untidy, unspoken things
The rusted raw pipes and the pipes of dreams,
The emptying of self and the pride it brings
Of things prepared and unplanned,
Rockets for men and moons unmanned,
Beaches of stones and shorelines of sand,
The can't, the might, the maybe, the can.
Of things still real and things pretend
The beginnings of middles, and starting of ends.
The speaking in riddles and the questions of men.
The voices of angels and the stories of friends
From the heart, to the heart, to the bitter end.
Like a pool for my soul, comes Spirit to mend
Unwinding my stitching, good shepherd to tend!
To the battles I won and lost again,
The delusions of profit and the freedom of cost,
The Kingdoms of men and The Kingdom of God,
The things that are sown and things that are tossed
Come seed! come tree! come weed! come moss!
Here’s to the belittled and here’s to the brag,
Of heretics and heroes, of fathers and dads
Of jesters and kings, of companions and cads,
Of parks and swings, beer bottles and cans.
Of the stars that we see and won’t ever reach,
Of the thoughts that we think and won’t ever speak,
The black, the white, the in-between,
The suffering and joy, the mighty and meek,
The loosing of captives, the strength to the weak,
The men that make gods, and the God that will bleed,
Screams ‘life’ from a dying mouth to free,
I’m out of my depth but I'm starting to see,
My beginning, my end, my boat! My sea!
The space between notes and the words that I sing,
The noise of the city, the humming of streets,
Perfectly hearing, understanding me.
My family, my island, my sun and sky,
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
from Monk Days
track released November 25, 2016
Words, voice, drums, guitar, bass: George Trevor White
2nd Guitar: Wesley Triffitt
all rights reserved