I want to talk about you, your ascension, the promise I wish I knew, too beautiful.
Say more for the lovers, please.
Weaver of dreams, dripping stardust, you answered time after time, then I’ll be tired; still, insisting, love thy neighbor.
But how deep is the ocean after the rain?
An acknowledgement. Help me to be––compassion. Love.
An acknowledgement: Consequences.
Help me to be––serenity. Dearly beloved, I am a dreamer.
Dearly beloved, something I dreamed last night––
It was sometime around midnight, just after another take of something straight, no chaser, and all of us gathered like someone in love, alternating our so whats with melancholic meditations like someday my prince. It was soft lights and slow dance, and you leave me breathless on a misty night to hear a rhapsody. Lover, come back to me. I Cry!
Tender, it’s a fire waltz, a minor disturbance. It’s this chronic blues, a love supreme.
Call me by my rightful name, I’m old fashioned. I can’t get started. I’m too young to go––
Steady. But it’s all or nothing at all.
Dearly beloved, this is an acknowledgement.
Beloved, this is a song of praise
I wish I knew.
Inspired by the serendipitous appearance of A Love Supreme on last night’s random shuffle, the above is assembled almost entirely from the titles of John Coltrane songs. And, of course, by love.