Midnight.....
There is no sound in the forest -
only the phantom murmur
of the far wind
and the wind's shadow drifting
as smoke
through ebon branches; there a single star
glistens in the heart of night....
A star!
Look skyward now...
and see above...INFINITY
Vast and dark and deep
and endless....your heritage:
Silent clouds of stars,
Other worlds uncountable and other suns
beyond numbering
and realms of fire-mist and star-cities
as grains of sand....
drifting...
Across the void....
Across the gulf of night....
Across the endless rain of years....
Across the ages.
Listen!
Were you the star-born you should hear
That silent music of which the ancient sages spoke
Though in silent words...
Here then is our quest
and our world
and our Home.
Come with me now, Pilgrim of the stars,
For our time is upon us and our eyes
shall see the far country
and the shining cities of Infinity
which the wise men knew
in ages past, and shall know again
in the ages yet to be.
Look to the east....there shines
the Morning Star...soon shall the sunrise come...
We await the Dawn,
Rise, oh eternal light;
Awaken the World!
With trumpets and cymbals and harp and the sound
of glad song!
And now...
The clouds of night are rolled away;
Sing welcome to the Dawn
Rise, oh eternal light;
Awaken the World!
With trumpets and cymbals and harp and the sound
of glad song!

Dance to your shadow when it's good to be living, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
Dance to your shadow when it's fine to be living, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
            ** ro haradal, hind* ye haradal,
            ** ro haradal, hind ye han dan.

Dance to your shadow when it's hard to be living, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
Dance to your shadow when it's sore to be living, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
           ** ro haradal, etc.

Dance to your shadow, letting Fate to her fiddle, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
Dance to your shadow, for it's fine to be living, lad,
Dance to your shadow when there's nothing better near you.
            ** ro haradal, etc.

                                                    
*Pronounce like English " hind."

Mrs Moon
sitting up in the sky
little old lady
rock-a-bye
with a ball of fading light
and silvery needles
knitting the night

Gerry And The Pacemakers
Best Of Gerry And The Pacemakers
You'll Never Walk Alone
(R. Rodgers - O. Hammerstein II)

When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

I am a dreamer,
riding on storm clouds.
Dancing with lightning and
drifting through snow falls.

I am a dreamer,
to the wide open spaces.
Shouting from cliff tops and
swimming in rivers.

I am a dreamer,
of undulating tree lines.
Swooping through valleys,
of ancient oak forests.

I am a dreamer,
a seeker of silences.
Whispering soft words,
to the wandering waters.

I am a dreamer,
I wake with the night song,
leaving behind the,
illusions of day time.

And you are the dream,
in the deepest of currents.
Pulling me on and
pulling me forth.

Maybe some day,
we shall meet, we shall mingle.
The dream coming home,
to rest in me.

© Previn Pillay,

Old lame Bridget doesn't hear
Fairy music in the grass
When the gloaming's on the mere
And the shadow people pass:
Never hears their slow grey feet
Coming from the village street
Just beyond the parson's wall,
Where the clover globes are sweet
And the mushroom's parasol
Opens in the moonlit rain.
Every night I hear them call
From their long and merry train.
Old lame Bridget says to me,
"It is just your fancy, child."
She cannot believe I see
Laughing faces in the wild,
Hands that twinkle in the sedge
Bowing at the water's edge
Where the finny minnows quiver,
Shaping on a blue wave's ledge
Bubble foam to sail the river.
And the sunny hands to me
Beckon ever, beckon ever.
Oh! I would be wild and free,
And with the shadow people be.

By Louise Glück, 1943

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

They said: "She dwelleth in some place apart,
Immortal Truth, within whose eyes
Who looks may find the secret of the skies
            And healing for life's smart."

I sought Her in loud caverns underground--
On heights where lightnings flashed and fell;
I scaled high Heaven; I stormed the gates of Hell,
            But Her I never found.

Till thro' the tumults of my Quest I caught
A whisper: "Here, within thy heart,
I dwell; for I am thou: behold thou art
            The Seeker---and the Sought."

By Muhammad Umair Shabbir, Pakistan

When the sun goes down,
I slip back into consciousness.
Glued to my bedroom's window,
The sight outside, a flash-back,
A grey-scale picture withered in time.
Haunting my mind, enchanting,
Cool breeze caressing my skin,
My eyes jammed on the big, ol' tree.
I lose my senses to the dreamy vision.

When the sun goes down,
It's time to sway away…
To the sweet music of life.
The silvery moonlight, illuminating
The world where only I exist, alone.
My throat tears as I scream
And the Heavens tremble;
The squeal of my conscience
Mutes the moans of my soul.

When the sun goes down,
The show must go on…

"The swans are singing again," said to one another the gods. And looking downwards, for my dreams had taken me to some fair and far Valhalla, I saw below me an iridescent bubble not greatly larger than a star shine beautifully but faintly, and up and up from it looking larger and larger came a flock of white, innumerable swans, singing and singing and singing, till it seemed as though even the gods were wild ships swimming in music.
"What is it?" I said to one that was humble among the gods.
"Only a world has ended," he said to me, "and the swans are coming back to the gods returning the gift of song."
"A whole world dead!" I said.
"Dead," said he that was humble among the gods. "The worlds are not for ever; only song is immortal."
"Look I look!" he said.   "There will be a new one soon."
And I looked and saw the larks, going down from the gods.

Autoplay next poem
O lovely moon, how well do I recall
The time,--'tis just a year--when up this hill
I came, in my distress, to gaze at thee:
And thou suspended wast o'er yonder grove,
As now thou art, which thou with light dost fill.
But stained with mist, and tremulous, appeared
Thy countenance to me, because my eyes
Were filled with tears, that could not be suppressed;
For, oh, my life was wretched, wearisome,
And is so still, unchanged, belovèd moon!
And yet this recollection pleases me,
This computation of my sorrow's age.
How pleasant is it, in the days of youth,
When hope a long career before it hath,
And memories are few, upon the past
To dwell, though sad, and though the sadness last.