Trees make shadows in the twilight from the moors
below clouds of telic tincture I’ve never seen before.
And what splendour the shadows cast into shade,
some of the finest creations my Lord ever made.
It ruins the art work but don’t let it ruin your faith
when the unmerited marshes dare speak of grace.
Don’t cry dear moors at the words of those marshes,
although sometimes those words seem the harshest.
This beautiful world of ours will be all right
as long as your spirit doesn’t vanish tonight.
I saw a yellow flower dance in the wind one time
as the children ran around it with animated cries.
I’ve heard the early melodies from unseen beaks
to which I smiled having been humbled for weeks.
Below us the city’s lights all twitch in the breeze
and the stars above us are a glowing poppy field
each one a ghost of a loved one we’ve lost,
keeping our feet steady as we walk over frost.
This beautiful world of ours will be all right
as long as those haunters don’t vanish tonight.
If love’s stone is stalwart then which stone is mine?
It’s broken and fragile and erodes over time.
The world’s stone is substantive if ourselves are not,
and it keeps moving in time when our brains cannot.
So hold me close as my mind tends to wander away,
it freezes up when I have something important to say.
Mirrors are open and they show us our lives.
They show us the beauty of the world and your eyes.
This beautiful world of ours will be all right
as long as our love doesn’t vanish tonight.