When I see the light
Right there, before me
I try to remember
Right there, before me
I try to remember
I may have to step
Through many doorways
To find its source
I may have to step
Through many doorways
To find its source
Sights, sounds, smells
Unlike anywhere else
In a country
Unlike anywhere else
They come to rise up
Then to speed down
To glide on silken slopes
The graceful arc of edges
All I need is
A canoe
A paddle
And a clear, calm mountain lake
With every stroke
I feel my tensions release
My thoughts slide down my arms
Into the paddle
They lap lightly
On the shores of consciousness
They script the creeds
Direct the deeds
They lead a people
To their fate
Or is it ‘fate’ created?