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Tapestry
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Don McClean
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Don McClean
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Miscellaneous
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Tapestry
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Every thread of creation is held in position
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by still other strands of things living.
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In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline
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of smouldering cities so gray and so vulgar,
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as not to be satisfied with their own negativity
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but needing to touch all the living as well.
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Every breeze that blows kindly is one crystal breath
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we exhale on the blue diamond heaven.
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As gentle to touch as the hands of the healer.
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As soft as farewells whispered over the coffin.
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We're poisoned by venom with each breath we take,
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from the brown sulphur chimney and the black highway snake.
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Every dawn that breaks golden is held in suspension
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like the yoke of the egg in albumen.
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Where the birth and the death of unseen generations
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are interdependent in vast orchestration
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and painted in colors of tapestry thread.
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When the dying are born and the living are dead.
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Every pulse of your heartbeat is one liquid moment
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that flows through the veins of your being.
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Like a river of life flowing on since creation.
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Approaching the sea with each new generation.
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You're now just a stagnant and rancid disgrace
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that is rapidly drowning the whole human race.
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Every fish that swims silent, every bird that flies freely,
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every doe that steps softly.
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Every crisp leaf that falls, all the flowers that grow
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on this colourful tapestry, somehow they know.
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That if man is allowed to destroy all they need.
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He will soon have to pay with his life, for his greed.
Don McLean - Vincent ( Starry, Starry Ni...
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