Ignorance is bliss they say
There are many who might agree
But I have a secret to share today
That once was shared with me

If you should ever chance to gaze into the eyes of the young and bold
You might discern a glowing light that neither flickers nor grows cold

What sustains this constant spark-
Night or day, light or dark?

Whence flows the river of joy and peace
That gushes forth through gentle souls?
What is the secret of peaceful sleep
Enjoyed by minds of simpler mould?

Tempting though it may be to attribute to lacking wit
The exuberance and ecstasy discarded with the training bit,
Wisdom urges a second glance
beyond the proverbial looking glass
In the hope one might contrive
to visit with the other side
A world of simple charms and grace,
far from this one’s treacherous maze

And so this deeper, delving look
Might relight that failing spark
While in the pages of a thousand books
One may languish in the dark!

Is it where you come from that matters?
Is it your history, your line of descent?
Do they really know you, they chatter
Would they sit down with your friends
Where do you come from they ask
What is your story they say
Will you do away with your mask
Let them know you if they may

What went before doesn’t matter
Only the present counts
It’s a fresh start you barter
For your past in the ground
But when it comes down to it
They still want to know
Where did you come from
Where will you go

You choose your own fate
Your life is in your hands
Your future’s for you to make
You’re not bound to the land
Let them know you by your deeds
By your words and by your song
Do they need to trace your feet
To know where you belong?

What is a reputation -
But a binding rope
No leeway to stumble
For it’s a slippery *****
If the days gone by are to colour
Every speech and action
Where is the scope to discover?
Aren’t our lives but a fraction -
Of what they could be
If we believed we were free
To set forth and make waves
Or float along with the sea

But then again you may say -
Do people really change?
Can they let go of the hate -
Washed clean by the rain?
And can we trust someone who lays
No claim to yesterday -
For whom nothing can vouch
But the words of their mouth?
If one is constantly changing -
Then where does one stand?
How can the others trust you -
How can they shake your hand?
Is trust merely an illusion
We conjure up for ourselves -
To alleviate the confusion
To put reason on the shelf?
One day we all must choose
When there is much to lose
Whether to cling to the family tree
Or take flight and be free

Those you grow up with are forever
They’re the ones you never leave
Where you came from is your start
The first page of your story
But it can’t tie you down
It can’t hold you back
You mustn’t be afraid
For in the attack
They may have the armour of the known
And the weapons of their forebears
But you will have freedom
And an army of your brothers
Your brothers in thought
And ideals and humanity
Your sisters with whom you fought
The winds of disparity

So I suppose what I’m saying is
The only story worth telling
Is the one that unfolds
In the final reckoning

Anyone can rhyme
Or hum a melody
But to lay your guts out on the table
For everyone to see
That’s what art is
That’s the soul
That's hunger, pain, and glory
As the artist tells their story
That’s living your truth
And telling it straight
What sets some apart
The secret of the greats
Stop fumbling with that metre
Don’t fret over the rhyme
Pour your soul onto the paper
Pull the tears from our eyes

I’m the space between light and shadow
The dimness just beyond the headlights
I’m the silver lining of a storm cloud
The pause after crescendo
The top of the rollercoaster, just before the drop

I’m the hum between beat and rhythm
The echo in the valley
And the wake of the ship
The air that moves between hummingbirds’ wings
The scent of gardenias on the night air
The wet sand that makes castles but clings to your feet and never leaves the lining of your swimsuit so you never forget that day at the beach.

Someday you may spot me in the background
Shield your eyes against the floodlights and peer into the urgent quiet at stage left
You’ll hear the scribbling of last minute changes;
And know that:
I’m that improvised line
on everyone’s mind
at the end of the night.

The essence of a memory
You can’t quite place
Christmas mornings
Summer jobs
The undertones of a complex wine
The elusive je ne sais quoi
That sends you back to the food stall
With no name
On the corner of that park
We used to love
to cut through
On the way back from grandma’s.

You’ll recognize me
In the dying applause
Bonfire smoke on the morning air
The late afternoon breeze that reminds you to pick your kid up from school
The coolness of a glass of water after the first rain of the season
The third chew of an intensely flavourful bite of food
The stubble on his chin in the morning
Music at a wake
Bourbon at her graduation
Coffee in a hospital waiting room

I am the crease of your forehead between tears and laughter
The glowing ember of a discarded matchstick
I am the space
Between footsteps
And words
And silent chants
Between your hands
When you fold them
And hold them
And raise them up
To touch the sky
And lower them down
To return to earth

I am the space between Light and Shadow
Between earth and sky
When you need me, I’ll be there.
Even if you don’t know it.