Back to the Mystic

Todays Daily Prompt was too good to ignore. Instantly, I POOF… was transported to the other day, when I wrote that poem.

This song takes me back to those years at the lake. When I hear that song, from one of Tim’s favourite singers, I am always moved. Mentally I am back, by a campfire, comfortably situated, with cozy pillows, in lawn chairs. Crackling fire at our feet, and the Newfie Neighbour on the deck next door playing his squeeze box.

On the aire, the strains of “Girl with the black velvet band”, or “When Irish Eyes are Smilin'”.

Yet this song, this song is none of those. This song, by VAN MORRISON, is Into The Mystic. Every single time I hear it, the same scenes come to mind, the smile breaks out, and a tear glides down one cheek. Happy tears, joyful tears, tears now of peace and thankfulness. As the old cliché goes, “better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all”.

On this night, after most of the neighbours have gone to bed, and there is a mere handful left, the moon breaks out from the thick cedars. As it lights up the lake, there is this magical moment, when the glint hits, and way in the distance you begin to hear the coyote howls. Tis magic, truly, truly magic.

Out of all the places Tim had ever been, it twas in that spot, right that night, that he was finally free.

IMG_0316-001We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic

And when that fog horn blows I will be coming home
And when the fog horn blows I want to hear it
I don’t have to fear it

And I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And magnificently we will flow into the mystic

When that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home
And when that fog horn whistle blows I got to hear it
I don’t have to fear it

And I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will flow into the mystic
Come on girl…

Too late to stop now…

… AND SO I WRITE.

Irish Lake, One Night

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