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Ships That Sail ( The Great Storm )

No! There is no one there on the other side of the seventh door. No one!
Nothing exists palpable, no drifting wisdom found out and about o’er,
And through the mists, the rich fields which lay softly blanketing there,
In the maw and in the holy grace of my celestial morning garden - unfolding,

No, there are no welcoming Angels this day here in my green, rich meadow,
Across the many vistas where I have summoned all faithful departed to my lair,
Gathered where In the calculus and presence of my mystical whimsy I repair,
. . . But there is nothing left there! Nothing that I may've in heaven declared,


On this day the rain fell hard o'er my head and in that very grip,
In its semblance, piercing cold gales blew fiercely through the darkening,
Angered skies above,

And upon the old etched gravestones there scattered across the damply gray,
Marked landscape, earthen, murmuring,
Words with their soft impressions, bent and leaning, across the faces - wept,

For this is the ground where many alive o'er the centuries have lain and slept,

And as the moon shone bold yellow inside it’s globe, there wet in shadowy squalls,
The great storm came.

Thom Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland


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This one is very powerful, emotionally speaking. I would love to hear a recording of it one day. You know what? You kind of look like that merman - sexy & you know it! Really enjoyed it!

Always there with you, sitting by the fire, amber fog all around.

Tul

Tul,


Yes, always be with me here nearest the fire. And mayhaps I'll record this piece one day.

Either way, I'm so very glad ye liked it, Tul. Thank you,

tommo / Ireland

On form as always

Word Power