Harbor Me

This song-poem became almost a game for me—actually, it did become a game. The rhymes are intricate and hard to flow naturally, and for days, weeks, longer, I ran the lyrics through my mind, over and over, tasting this line, tasting that, savoring it one moment, discarding it the next.

This went on for months, as I recall.

Finally I had it to a point where I simply could not improve it (in my view), so I thought it complete and recorded it on my then equipment.

A few years later I revisited it, tweaked it, and re-recorded it.

A few years later: ditto.

Then, this last month, I’ve visited it again, over and over. Running the lyrics through again and again during my walks among the trees and friendly clouds, and not only did I tweak the lyrics, but I rearranged their sequence as well. What, I guess, amounted to major surgery; but the patient—in my view—is all better for it.

And just this last week: I revisited the lyrics one last time, tweaked a little here and little there, minor surgery really. And here’s the final result.

The Words:

More than likely mad
this home to distant pain
once again
puts his pen to paper

Rendering this sadly
curious disdain
that would fain
take its leave
to grieve in silence

Flickering and gasping
colors of the flame
you hail the name
of Faith that she would save us

Shivering and grasping
remnants of the game
cold and lame
and torn and tossed
and lost to darkness

So, sing the path
that we may know
Shine that we may see
Harbor me
Harbor me

Voices, true and ancient
still alive to set us free
Harbor me
Harbor me

Sentinel of reason
whom nothing will immure
you still endure
every storm and sorrow

Weaver of the season
dreamer of the pure
long enured
to every scorn
and thorn and arrow

Still, in my heart
madness apart
shines the lighted
beacon of my art

Honest and true
ever anew
as a shelter and sanctity
to point of view

Harbor me
Harbor me

Fear begot the dark
lust begot the cage
lies the rage
and fury that devour

Seeing through this stark
specter of a stage
with one last page
I’m leaving this
deceiving lowlands

So, sing the path
that we may know
Shine that we may see
Harbor me
Harbor me

Voices, true and ancient
still alive to set us free
Harbor me
Harbor me

Ulf Wolf
June 1992/March 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Wolfstuff