|
Every journey brings its own surprises
|
| . |
She's from Morden, Manitoba is Loreena McKennitt, her brother still farms down that way. She's come along way, many journeys
taken, many miles covered, in place and time, distance and space. Roads taken...destinations arrived at...we look around and
realise this was not the original one...somewhere different, the excitement of exploration.....a grove of trees.....gone now....a
cathedral, built it is said, on ground that was holy, before ever Christianity arrived, and the voices of the ages resonate.
The words of W.B Yeats, William Shakespeare, the spirit of Charles Dickens walks with us....the mask, the mirror, the
sounds of a market, the horse on the road taking pilgrims...these are her landscapes, they are conjoured before us and we
are there with her, along the dusty trails, up over the mountains and there before us an ancient cathedral and the chanting
voices. You are there. We are there.............
The Mystic's Dream
(Loreena McKennitt)
A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds
in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It's there that my heart is calling
All for the love
of you.
A painting hangs on an ivy
Nestled in the emerald moss
The eyes declare a truce of trust
And then
it draws me far away
Where deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
When darkness lays her crimson
cloak
Your lamps will call me home
And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel you move
Every
breath is full
So it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All
for the love of you
|
 |
|
