Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
When the words are taken away, when the voice is silenced, we still have the music, we still have the melody. Once, several years ago, I wrote a blog post using this Joni Mitchell song, but I cannot find it anymore. Like the rest of this site, one day it will all be lost – bits and pieces and fragments of whatever technological remnants might remain won’t ever come together like you see them here. Nothing lasts forever.
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way that you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way
But now it’s just another show
And you leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away
The sky was troubled on the night these photos were taken, on the night these words are being written. This moment will be over and done by the time anyone reads this post, and this precious capsule of time will have passed. But I can play it over again in my mind, like the way this song remains in memory, as long as I can remember, as long as I might pass it on.
Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say, “I love you, ” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way
Oh, but now old friends, they’re acting strange
And they shake their heads and they tell me that I’ve changed
Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day
As I write this, the friends I met thirty years ago are scheduled to arrive tomorrow for a weekend of catching up and reminiscing, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling slightly nostalgic and contemplative – my ‘pensive pony’ pose as a former paramour once described this mood. Maybe it’s just Mercury in retrograde. As I perused a shirt in a store earlier tonight, it reminded me of my favorite Uncle – it was something he would have worn, likely selected by his wife and of no great concern to him, clothes not mattering as much as other things, and I almost started crying for the tender innocence of some men, and the tender guilt of all of us.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all
