Week 336 // The High Ground

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I turn the gear at morning
And I scrape against the island
And any eye cast toward the cracks
Shall be snatched out for denying what we’re told

Hold to your reason
To seek the horizon line

Hold to conviction
And hold to each other
The cracks fill with water
The high ground will raise you up

Hold the world above you
For you are your mother’s daughter
The Earth aloft and in your hands
Run your fingers through the water and hold

I was a goner
Until I was lifted up

I was a goner
A thought cast adrift
Across the cracks in the sidewalk
You reached down to lift me up

Features start to change
Many miles in the distance
Whatever force it takes
The very edges of existence will give way

Hold to the moment
You burst through the closing gate

Hold to the kindness
The cracks couldn’t breach
You must hold to the convictions
That the chaos couldn’t reach
And you will hold tight to the lesson
That a crucible can teach
And we will hold tight to each other
With the other ever reaching up

Notes
Last week’s entry, “The Absence of Light”, was pretty bleak. My dad, who contributes weekly comments on the website under the nom de plume “oldman”, remarked, “Sounds grim. Is it time for an upbeat song?” I’m not sure anyone would accuse this week’s song of being upbeat; you probably couldn’t dance to it. However, it does achieve a serenity and optimism that has been lacking in my recent work.

This song starts from the shallows of defeat and frustration evident in some recent entries, and seeks higher ground. It’s a love song, and it’s a future song. I’ve written before of entropy, the powerful gravity afflicting New Yorkers, and the inability to sense the edges of the place. This song is about working together to achieve escape velocity. We’re building up a head of steam.

~M.E.

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