Morning Sounds

I was dabbling in affairs of the heart against the backdrop of a broken one
And I was grappling with a promise I’d begun, if only an unspoken one
But in the peaceful predawn, with the outlines getting clearer
I saw a child’s reflection in the mirror
I was driving with the windows down
The day had not arrived yet but the morning had
And with the morning came the morning sounds

With the benefit of hindsight, the line above that jumps out at me now is I saw a child’s reflection in the mirror. I have learned there is a three-year old version of me, scared and baffled, unobserved as he observes from deep within my psyche. It’s his reflection in that old Plymouth mirror. 

I could hear the morning sounds
And the mysteries astound me
And the struggle it surrounds me
But it was only peace that found me
When I heard the morning sounds

Occasionally that vigilant little sentry boy, so determined not to allow anything to enter that might make us vulnerable to pain, momentarily drifts to sleep. In the absence of his worry and confusion, a ray of light shines through to dapple the perceptions of twenty-something, thirty-something, forty-something, fifty-something me.

I was leaving the apartment of some ballerina waitress girl I’d met the month before
And I was grieving for the dreams that she was making and the parts of me I knew I’d never show her
But in the dawn’s confusion as the living things awaken
I felt the joyful side of me start shaking
And fatigue gave way to ecstasy
The day had not arrived yet, but the morning had
And with the morning came the morning sounds

I lived with my two best friends that summer in Charlottesville, Virginia. I played gigs in whatever little bar would have me and drank way too much, way too often. It was hazy to me, even as I endured it. I think Deanna was the name of the “ballerina waitress girl.” She’d danced ballet as a kid. I made up the waitress part.

I could hear the morning sounds
And the mysteries astound me
And the struggle it surrounds me
But it was only peace that found me
When I heard the morning sounds

The rays of light shine through still; as do the morning sounds. I hear them. (Listen). I feel them. (Listen.)  Bliss. Peace. The presence of something infinite, binding in the gentlest of ways.

God? Love? The word I choose really doesn’t matter.

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