adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, December 17, 2016

The Wind on the Prairie, the Wind on the Sea

The Wind on the Prairie, the Wind on the Sea

The wind on the prairie, the wind on the sea,
the wind swept away all that’s left of me,
away across the ocean wide,
away across the great divide.
The wind will never let me be —
the wind on the prairie, the wind on the sea.

The wind of morning called one day,
whispering of a distant shore,
and the wind carried me away,
away from a home I’ll see no more.
Oh, that wind, it knew my name
and promised to make me whole;
Yes, it called me and I came,
called out to my restless soul.

Across the restless waters it blew,
wrote a fortune in sea foam;
my heart told me it was true —
with the wind I’d ever roam.
Weary, I have sought to rest,
sheltered in some headland’s lee;
the crying gull above the wave’s crest
calls me to my destiny.

Once I was a cowboy, riding,
Silver spurs hung at my heels;
painted stallion beneath me striding,
going to find what dawn reveals.
Yes, I rode a fine tall horse
across a wide and empty land,
followed a river to its source,
where the snow-gripped mountains stand.

Wagons rolled across the plains,
storms rolled above the broad expanse,
and I faced the droughts and rains,
watched a distant devil dance.
Their canvas gleamed like snowy sails
on a sea of grass, wind-swept,
and all of my forgotten tales
night sang to me as I slept.

Every ship needs sails and anchor,
every bird both earth and sky,
and this heart at times must hanker
to see my home before I die.
What compass points to all I’ve lost,
on what tides should I now sail?
What divides must yet be crossed,
how long must the winds yet wail?

Far across the mountain heights,
prairies where the lost winds weep,
across the vast and starry nights
I’ve watched rise from the oceans deep,
could I find familiar sands,
where I once dreamed on the shore,
might I find the distant lands
where I hear the wind no more?

The wind on the prairie, the wind on the sea,
the wind swept away all that’s left of me,
away across the ocean wide,
away across the great divide.
I pray for that wind to set me free —
the wind on the prairie, the wind on the sea.

Stephen Brooke ©2016

It's a poem, it's a song lyric, it's kind of long --- it's something I've been working on (or off and on) for quite some time. The title was originally going to be a used for an album combining the sea songs and cowboy songs I had recorded over the years, but I decided they weren't good enough and scrapped the idea. But not the title! I kept thinking I should do something with it.

So this is where it ended up. Yes, there is music, though that is still in flux. Yes, it is sort of bloated but I knew it would be and embraced the fact. The  chorus --- the opening there --- repeats every couple verses, by the way. Anyway, it is a finished product. On to something else.

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