(for Humphrey)
Along the rugged shore
broken faces of old stones,
full of ancient records
and passages of the sun.
I hear their heartbeats
in cold water silence,
the passing of years
in vanished voices.
Written on water,
stories given to the sea,
carried where tides travel
to the holy book
at the end of time.
Reading of “Written on Water” with music by Richard Thompson
Oooh. Chicken skin! HP LIVES!!
Don, I think the sea may be carrying some powerful mushrooms toward Jack Lavelle this weekend. Thanks for the poem. No comment yet from Mike McC., I see. He is probably sleeping off the big meal I bought for him recently.
Don — Beautiful poem today. Thank you for it. Our lives are so ephemeral. Our stories might as well be written on water. But we all hope that they may end up in a “holy book” at the end of days. I think Figel was abducted by a drug cartel down in Mexico this weekend. He might need a good lawyer.
Beautiful tribute to lifelong friends with “vanished voices.” I too hear them in their heartbeat. At peace, and carried by the tide–a gorgeous way to be released. Your photograph is perfect. Thank you, Don. I love this poem.
Stories written on water (figuratively speaking, of course) can honorably mark ends of time. For instance, a deceased’s mortal ashes being ceremonially spread upon flowing river waters in honor of a noble life lived: The pure essence of something once temporal now being acknowledged as Timeless. I’ve experienced the profound peace that can sublimely imbue symbolic gestures of that sort.
Cold water Silence — Chilling!!!
” So perfectly stated”.
Thank you brother.
In the heart forever as you know