Memories

In September of 1973 I lived on a ship somewhere off the coast of Western Africa. I was on a spiritual quest, one might say, ensconced with my brothers and sisters and our prince of light on this ocean-going vessel. These were glorious and memorable days.

Aboard, I owned only the essentials (there’s not room for much else on a well-manned ship), but these essentials did include my guitar, and one day I wrote this song to reflect what I felt to be distant memories, or perhaps were they my current hopes.

Either way, I was happy with the result, as in the song did reflect my awe at the recollection or hope.

Thirty odd years later, I revisited this song and adorned it a little.

The Words:

Winter’s night
softly receding to bring
bells that awaken to ring
for the morning mass

Frosty snow
feathering earth into white
feathering feet for the light
of our chapel
I thought, I hope
I’m not late

Father Tom,
smiling to say he can see
whither I’ve traveled in deepest
shadow

Morning hymn
rising on wonder and wing
rising for dawn as we sing
our new day
the night and his dreams
soon to furl and fade
to light

Morning, what a morning
still dark outside
as I saunter for the hall
peace, what a beautiful peace
I felt

Young, oh, how young we were
souls alight with a yearning
so sincere
free, oh, how free we were
learning, learning

Crystal sky
darkly she whispers of dawn
starry she glitters and spawns
her symphony

Snow clad hills
foresty giants asleep
harboring spring as they keep
her from freezing
I smiled to myself
and went in

Brother John
sharing the bread that he breaks
handing me some that I take
with my morning meal

Time goes by
velvety wise on her way
and somewhat aloof that we may
forego her again
my honest and shining
and rising: divining
my never forgotten
forever true devotion
alive

Morning, what a morning
though lighter now
I can still make out the stars
peace, what a heavenly peace
I felt

Wise, oh, how wise his eyes
laughing
with the light of lives and lives
free, oh, how free we were
knowing, knowing

Ulf Wolf
September 1973/December 2014
opyright © 2014 by Wolfstuff