Walk the road all lonely
Heave a heavy sail
Ride the waves ’till only
You are almost there
Almost there–but never quite in fact
Almost there–there is no turning back
Oh to see the crystal skylines of cities made of Light
I long to Know with hindsight about the calls of night
Or go inside of Memory for just a single day
to first recall the sentry who sent for me to pray
And I will look for answers from deep inside The Well
of half forgotten dancers of temples long since fell
The swirling of the fabric, the smell of burning stones
The touch of mystic memory, the rising of the smoke
They call to me from Long Since Past
The singing leaves, the waving grass
The raising of the glass of golden hue
There is rhythm there
There is a swirling in the air
There is a swollen, limpid cloud of dew
There is a musty chamber
There is a rolling dice
There is a crowded wager of something happening twice
I stand upon the threshold, hold out a weary hand
I hold my lighted lantern, and travel foreign lands
I whisper in the morning to remnants of a dream
and put together puzzles–stars floating in a stream
Then in the midst of everything I stop to sing a song
To call on half remembered things, and ask they come along
To follow me down paths unknown, through oceans vast and deep
To find me in the Last Below, and past the doors of Sleep
For there is something waiting there–or else there’d be no Call
No Thing to tell the phrases to when rhyming at the walls
There is a place to go from here, a place that I am from
Uncovering the road to there is all that can be done
And so I’ll go, but seem to stay
And so I’ll find another way
To places far, and ever near–upon the wings of dreams
Upon the winds of dreams my love, I’ll fly to distant shores
And in the wings of dreams my love, you’ll find me evermore
