In a dream, I imagine I’ve lost my arm.
I’m walking past the city,
past the towns,
into the Blue Dandenong hills.
There, as I look back,
it seems a miller had stoked a fire in the sea.
The clouds form a satin robe:
regal with violet, crimson and gold.
At the center of it, the royal heir:
Prince of Life,
fiery Lover of the Earth,
the Gracious King.
It is too much beauty
for one man to behold alone…
I lept to my feet,
the will to applaud rushing through me
so powerfully,
so irresistibly,
That on that day
where the grasses whisper,
carried by the wind from where I stand,
you could hear the sound of one hand clapping.
I’m walking past the city,
past the towns,
into the Blue Dandenong hills.
There, as I look back,
it seems a miller had stoked a fire in the sea.
The clouds form a satin robe:
regal with violet, crimson and gold.
At the center of it, the royal heir:
Prince of Life,
fiery Lover of the Earth,
the Gracious King.
It is too much beauty
for one man to behold alone…
I lept to my feet,
the will to applaud rushing through me
so powerfully,
so irresistibly,
That on that day
where the grasses whisper,
carried by the wind from where I stand,
you could hear the sound of one hand clapping.