Sunday, March 16, 2008

First Light (Recorded)

This song was written for our dearest Prue, who is now in hiatus. I think this is going to be the first time for him to hear it. Forgive the off-key singing. I recorded this at home in the wee hours of the morning. Prue, I hope you like it.



Here I lie on the sand
Hazy blue skies above
Morning’s soon to dawn
And will bring my love home

I stand on the promise
That one day you will come
Oh, angel of my life, alight
With the morning sun

Now I know I will never be alone
And they will know that our love will be that strong
Because with every waking dawn
Your warm embrace will come along
Because the sunrise brings my angel home

You’re as real as my thoughts
And feel as warm as the sun
When your wings take flight
With the coming of the light

I stand on the promise
That one day you will come
Oh, angel of my life, alight
With the morning sun

Now I know I will never be alone
And they will know that our love will be that strong
Because with every waking dawn
Your warm embrace will come along
Because the sunrise brings my angel home

And now reality sets in
Your presence slowly growing thin
So I live through the day, and head out again at night
So I could wait for first light

Now I know I will never be alone
And they will know that our love will be that strong
Because with every waking dawn
Your warm embrace will come along
Because the sunrise brings my angel home

- written January 24th for Prue, words and music by Kokum

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The Chronicler's Creed

Where there's water and sun, where there are friends to see or new people to meet, where there's something new to learn, experience, or do, where there's life, there I will be.

LA POESÍA

Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces, no eran
palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche,
de pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos
o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro
y me tocaba.

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I do not know, I do not know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I do not know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

- An excerpt from LA POESÍA (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda