WHAT THE MUSIC SAYS

Before it is light

Before it is light, when you’ve dressed and gone into the stable

The animals are lying there

Lying there on beech leaves

And your tiredness like a child you have dragged from its sleep

And through the window you see the span of stars

The span of stars into whose well we are thrown at birth

Like salt into water.

Dissolving there like the clear strike of a bell

Through air, over valleys, separated, and yet

Close as the young eye is to air.

The soft sound a hand makes

Moving through air, forming the loving rug of comfort

The dream of waves on the lake. This memory of sound

Is as real as sound itself. We, moving all the time

With knowledge, our inner ear

And a vast range for sound, based only

On a handful of notes.

So; before it is light, the not-quite-light

Evokes the possibility of hope, moving as it does

Out of darkness, Out of the home of death

Out of the area where infinite numbers reign supreme

Before it is light; a young child

Moving jerkily across a landscape

At first a move; and then stillness.

He sees his breath become visible

In the coldness of air

That could take his breath away

And yet holds in his mind the knowledge

Of parents still sleeping in the warm breath of their room.

Before it is light

When you’ve dressed and gone into the stable

And I am feeling foolish on a farm

When the single cow

Has come down to the single bale

With all her cowness and impatience

And I am such a city person now

With such a city softness

The animals are lying there

Waiting for your presence and what that means for them.

Lying there on beech leaves,

And your tiredness like a child you have dragged from its sleep

And our sleep joining together, again, after a long time,

Like the breath of a child.

 

And through the window you see the span of stars

The notes, breath, moves through the living pipe

Out over the lazy tongue, the way tide, moves in and out

Over estuary sand, snaking into the river, seen high

From above our moment of peace.

The span of stars into whose well

We are thrown at birth

Like salt into water.

Dissolving and clouding, returning

To those elements that first made life

Before there was life. And how poetic;

How romantic now to imagine

Another star with all those elements

Circling in the well. We give ourselves

All our lives these lies

But only be bitter

If we swallow them ourselves

Like the taste of salt in water: that taste

Has so many variations. I hear it now

Singing on the skin in the sweat of our labour

And our love. I hear

That sound in each sound.

So many, into the well, lost

And so much part of each other

So much unrecognised whirling there

Into the well of stars

Before light.

 

Lyndon Walker