Mortality
You were a crying baby not so long ago
You grew too fast, you grew too old
Now you are old and you're crying 'cause you know
You're gonna die
in the Knot
of time. When I die give me a silver cane
Golden shoes with my walking cane
Golden shoes so I can walk away
Far away
from the knot
of Time. When I die lay my body down
Lay me down in an Egyptian room
Send for the ship. take me away
Far away
from the knot
Of time.
This is part of a tune I wrote many years ago, a bluesy G minor, some time after a dream I had that I've never forgotten.
In it, a person was in a small circular machine going around and around slowly. It was also going up and down in the same rhythm, into the ground and back. Over and over and over. I knew there was no physical escape.
I was awakened to a monotony and repetetive motion to life, and a certain entrapment in the material realm. I think I've accepted this to some extent, as I experience the inevitable aging and natural sequences of living, in my older years. I hope to learn more and more how to let this natural rhythm carry me safely to my death.










































