Thursday, March 24, 2011

mural update

The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration

Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire

With just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory
The echoes of old applause

She limps across the floor

And closes her bedroom door...

The writer stare with glassy eyes

Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined

And streaked with tears of rage


Thirty years ago, how the words would flow

With passion and precision
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision

And he stares out the kitchen door

Where the sun will rise no more...

Some are born to move the world

To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...


neil peart

No comments:

Post a Comment

ANDREW WYETH AT THE BRANDYWINE!

I just paid a visit to the Brandywine Museum (first time) and saw the Andrew Wyeth Retrospective! It was beyond words and I also got to visi...