SHUTTLEDORE

Well, I’ll be dying soon but you don’t need to cry,
I will soon be passing and we all know why,
We all know we all know we all have to die,
But that’s not a reason and that’s why we cry.

The body is a-failing and the ailing’s long,
The notes are trailing in the evening song.
I was in the hallway when I heard the gong.
I sat down slowly and the minutes got long.

Could be we’ve all known the meaning of the years
climbing up the mountain of hopes and fears,
Standing on the shoulder, glory as it clears,
don’t sigh forget-me-not, I’ll wipe away your tears.

We all know we all know we don’t know much
and the bit that we do know is not such a crutch.
There are rabbits on the hill like the ones in the hutch,
but who said freedom was up to much?

I’m already buried and the ground is cold.
The words of the prophet are still being sold.
There’s an age old truth that’s rarely told...
You’ll always be an angel and never grow old.

We all know we all fear an open door,
a room in the heavens that’s got no floor.
Perchance there really is a dream in store
as we all know we all know we all want more.

But if you came knocking on my open door
I’d be more careful of the things I wore.
Yes, we all know we all know we all want more,
but there isn’t always time for shuttledore.

I’m already dying, I’m half way dead
but there’s still loose ends flying round my head
Looking for an angle on, What was it God said?
I’ll dream more dreams on my mattress bed.

We all know we all can and sometimes will,
but sometimes we can’t find money for the bill,
so love me, don’t deceive me and go on 'til
the raindrops are tears on the window sill.

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SUBLIME LIGHT

They say that death is mystery.
They say it’s endless night,
bur I recall a history
of subtle silver light
that sometimes does come back to me
upon the cosmic post
and when those angels set my free
that light will shine the most
and though the sleep be very long,
or short, yet full of dreams,
I’m sure my faith is right, not wrong,
and death’s not what it seems,
for when I strayed into its porch
I heard a true voice say,
to go toward the blazing torch
and there be shown the way.
So when the time has come around
to go my way alone
I shall not fear the jewelled ground
nor swift return to what I’ve know
for it is only solace
when the price of life is spent
and wherever next shall be my place
I’ll willingly be sent.

Namo Amida Bu

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