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               Music of  Christopher  Andreas   &                

Compass and Sail

For S.J.

'The stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood

of the worlds. And everything's holy - everything, even me'

                                                                                                         John Steinbeck


 (I)


Beyond


our lights' extrusion,

Blind of telescopic confusion,

These ploughed August eyes and my October son

Pale beneath ceilings of fusion-encrusted seams


Where the diamond dark

- a holy dark most fitting to talk of Cause -

Confounds his autumn unquestioning heart,

Portending closing doors and closing days;


Surely now the age to ask.

And so he does.     And in these gusty,

Debris days he does as he must,


 : His way:


Is a tawny flight,

Breathless leap from the occupied zone

To surcease with the once-lonely scientist - 

Not lonely anymore but, father, still hurting?


Father - that is me,

Wishing untangled moments were manifold,

Not, as in truth, weak, intermittent sounds

Straining to be heard through the torrent din


Of the must-be-saidmust-have

And     so-must-do     I've allowed to sweep away

Bridges spanning our hearts


 : Both warm and worn: 


We voyage,

Yet I in the wake of his courage

Revive heroic Ham, weightless and hairy;

Helpless in harness yet bound to be freed from ape


And mortal instinct

Once, at the brink of discovering how rich

This mine - particles pierce desire - we rest

A while          at the Keel of the Ship Argo


Light years gone, ignition's ire.

Now assaulted earth  dissolve, reach of space

Embrace and life-support us


 :After all:   


(II)


The growing's done,

Bairn, your broken ground may be fruitless

And thrown down     (arrest - with rage - the growing down)

between brittle stems tied with twine and bound passion


For renascent Spring -

And the darker parts you dug your den within;

Digging, thinning, with too lowly a mind

Your secret and sacred place to compose.


Dear, please, raise your eyes again


Beyond the storm       to near-Aurora nights

We rode the infinite curve;


Beyond our dumb-blind       reaping floods

At the final call of our seasons;


Before


(III)


It all       became too much down here

For you       my sworn friend       my soldier


But I       promised we would travel

Go       next time       to the Compass


And the Sail


                                                   copyright  Christopher Andreas  2009