In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
Thomas Carlyle
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Secret Oktober
Wise on a birthday party, in a world -
Full of surprising fireworks and sudden silence. (shh)
Lies on a stranger’s bed the new day breaks, like a speeding train
Or an old friend ever expected, but never knocking..
Holding your own in a battered car,
All night parties cocktail bars -
And smile when the butterfly escapes the killing jar
Sure eyes awake before the dancing is over
Wise or naked in secret oktober
Freefall on a windy morning shore,
Nothing but a fading track of footsteps,
To prove that you’d ever been there.
Spoken on a cotton cloud like the sound of gunshot -
Taken by the wind, and lost in distant thunder.
Racing on a shining plane -
Tomorrow you won’t be content to watch as the lightning plays -
Along the wires, and you’ll wonder...
(chorus) (chorus)