Halfway to Somewhere Under the Stars
It’s kind of Christmassy, but it doesn’t have to be
In Music and Stars Halfway to Somewhere
When cottages dot the land again,
beneath the snow and stars,
and sheep and shepherds can begin
to hear those old guitars…
The sweet and peaceful melodies,
the voices joined as one,
beyond the angry rebel yells,
communities undone…
When love and peace, not power or praise,
for smiles not guile and gold,
not pleasure’s wink, seductive gaze,
but whole love can take hold,
it’s then we’ll see what’s happened here,
what drove the crowds to Hell to cheer,
then stop and wonder…lend an ear.
Then music from the stars and strings,
can soothe, infuse, inspire.
The bells and flutes, and voices ring,
from brothers, sisters, tired of ire.
It’s in the dark that ire can grow,
where half-truths bloom,
where seeds don’t show,
but flowers of eventual doom,
attract a crowd, their sweet perfume,
the perfect trick for tears and gloom.
The light, some dim, some soft but bright,
some music for the mind,
can bring a different flower, sight;
half-truths just leave us blind.
We smell a scent of what we like,
but we don’t really see,
where it’s from — nor where it goes,
nor what it brings to be.
But out beneath the starry skies,
a pause, and wondering, open eyes,
I squeeze a hand, it squeezes mine.
I feel my Star Eyes. I feel fine.
T.J. Storey 12/21/22
