Eternal Fire
Never alone.
In our rooms in so many ways the memory of our family stays
Like letters in the bureau drawers, or crayoned pictures on the doors
Like photographs of special times, they form part of my dearest rhymes
And all my memories still are part of every good thing in my heart,
Echoes that lived so far away meander back and seem to say
Much more than just remembered songs, each one knows that it belongs
Among life's scattered golden leaves, a whispering canopy that believes
Life's pages can be bound with gold, if all our memories don't grow cold.
The pages of love's permanence seem dyed in love and common sense
Some flutter on while others fail, on oceans that they need to sail, and
Some wait outside closed church doors, like dreams adrift on different
shores, that gather gentle sunrise Prayers, to lift their souls and soothe
their cares, between life's lyrical refrain sometimes there is a hidden stain
Moulding colours from morning showers, so sweet the rainbow of the
early hours upon the rim where sky meets sea, there is a place where we
drift free like whispers freed from all restraint, never alone but oh so faint
And in his Holy sepulchre still shining in the ancient grime
The abacus of every dream still counts the beads of blessed time
As we intone each wondrous psalm that holds us back from hurt or harm
And faces from our always days pass by and bathe us in loves ways
Like beacons that will never die, no need to cry or say goodbye,
For in their eyes we know at last, there is no time, future or past
Just layers on layers of blessed dreams, that say all is not as it seems
For in the end we'll understand how souls will take us by the hand…
Like letters in the bureau drawers, or crayoned pictures on the doors
Like photographs of special times, they form part of my dearest rhymes
And all my memories still are part of every good thing in my heart,
Echoes that lived so far away meander back and seem to say
Much more than just remembered songs, each one knows that it belongs
Among life's scattered golden leaves, a whispering canopy that believes
Life's pages can be bound with gold, if all our memories don't grow cold.
The pages of love's permanence seem dyed in love and common sense
Some flutter on while others fail, on oceans that they need to sail, and
Some wait outside closed church doors, like dreams adrift on different
shores, that gather gentle sunrise Prayers, to lift their souls and soothe
their cares, between life's lyrical refrain sometimes there is a hidden stain
Moulding colours from morning showers, so sweet the rainbow of the
early hours upon the rim where sky meets sea, there is a place where we
drift free like whispers freed from all restraint, never alone but oh so faint
And in his Holy sepulchre still shining in the ancient grime
The abacus of every dream still counts the beads of blessed time
As we intone each wondrous psalm that holds us back from hurt or harm
And faces from our always days pass by and bathe us in loves ways
Like beacons that will never die, no need to cry or say goodbye,
For in their eyes we know at last, there is no time, future or past
Just layers on layers of blessed dreams, that say all is not as it seems
For in the end we'll understand how souls will take us by the hand…
