Friday, 30 September 2011
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
The pipes they played their ageless tune,
As we drove away into the gloom.
One journey ended, another begun
One song closing, one to be sung.
I wept not to say goodbye;
I walked away, my eyelids dry.
Bittersweet my memories,
The tunes I learned—the mistakes I made.
And through it all, we continued on
But no more. Our song is done.
In death there is a fond farewell
But I hear in life a more final knell
What will come, who can tell?
I fear it more, the hollow shell
Of what might be, but never was
Of lives un-lived, and love unloved.
Do we meet again, when all is said?
When paths diverge in our yellow wood?
God didn’t say, so I don’t know
Still...I’d like to think—somewhere, somehow—that it might be so.
I hear the voice, I hear the war
I hear the sound on a distant shore
I feel the spirit of yesterday
I touch the past, when the pipers played.
The pipes kept playing, for you and me
They kept on saying, “You’ll soon be free”
And your soul will never fade away
You’ll live forever when the pipers play.
And yet, in those fond words, I find no hope:
A cliff and a scaffold. At the end of it...rope.
From that day on, where’er I went
I didn’t play—my song was spent
I didn’t sing, my life was sung
My musical soul on a gallows hung.
But in the far reaches of memory,
I sometimes recall, just to see,
The way I feel, the way I felt
The cards I had, how my hand was dealt.
And as I remember that long ride home
I can hear no pipes, and no snare drum.