Cherry blossoms, caught mid-way through their dressing process, have paused in their show, refusing to be coaxed out in such cold, windy weather. Their reluctance is matched by their companion foliage – the leaves also remaining tightly bound, coiled into themselves in the face of such inhospitable iciness. Everything and everyone is hesitant to appear without the promise of the sun – but there is never such a promise, only the hope… a fervid, intense, passionate hope that spring leans closer to summer than winter, even if we are not quite there yet.
Oh joy’s arise
The sun has come again to hold you
Sailing out the doldrums of the whole week
The polyphonic prairies here, it’s all around you
It’s all around you, out here
And if the whole world is crashing down
Fall through space out of mind with me
Where the emptiness we leave behind on warm air rising
Blows all the shadows far away
Once the shadows depart, and the sun lets the sap start running again, a pair of ants will meet in the branches of a cherry tree. Maybe they’ve come from separate worlds, miles apart, finding each other compatible in a sea of millions where no other ant ever stood out. Maybe they’ve been nearby the whole time, simply unaware and unhappily alone without the other. A pair of ants is a wonder – an empire of ants is a metaphor. The human condition longs mostly for connection.
The falling alcohol empire, is here to hold you
Rolling out and haunted ’til it sleeps
Little memories, marching on
Your little feet, working the machine
Will it spin, will it soar
My little dream, working the machine
Soon like a wave that pass will fall
And closing in on you they’re going on
A pair of ants in a world that seems hellbent on stepping on them finds themselves in a precarious position. Two against the masses, two against the world. So many odds stacked against them, so many obstacles standing in their way. Happiness is too often a thing of delicate fragility – take it when you can, before it blows away. Hold tight to each other, see yourselves through the night.
Little memories
Your little feet, working the machine
Will it spin, will it soar
My little dream, working the machine
Soon like a wave that pass will fall
And closing in on you they’re going on
