And on that first day, when I’m all alone, when I’m looking across heaven, not like in the movies, seeing those fake disco lights. On that first day, when all is left behind, when a new world is before me, and I’m half high. Maybe dangerous, looking for what I might find. And all my life is wrapped in a simple shell, could be clam shaped or a Nautilus swell, I’d give anything to have those Magen angels bring me more sight. A high shift dreamer that takes me to the sky. On the last day, I’m a schemer, but the first day what’s this, I don’t cry. And what’s it like to live a dream, where dreams cannot fail, beyond the pale of breathing where the piper in a calm whisper, led me beyond tall tales. On the first day, I slip on my Nike’s, take a run through the edge of the sky, think I see that old black velvet, he for being dead and gone looks like a better man, the old hipster in me whispers now that’s out of sight.
And on the first day, I think I’m happy, traveling, seeing ghost in all of heaven’s wishing wells. No wooden sidewalks, no gold buildings, but there’s a wealth of snow. On the first day, I should be happy, I’m not in hell. If I get through the day, and then run through the night, I’ll do the first day again, and then, I’ll see the face of light. On the first day, when the wind has reached its conclusion and the soul has lost its fight. Maybe I’ll shake my fist, or hold it still at my side, it really doesn’t matter, for time has stopped, and the settlement is near.
And on the first day, I’ll turn to the right, and see the angels fly, some of them with dark wings, there’s a balance across all space, with what I find. If I get through the day and then run through the night, I’ll do the first day again, and then, I’ll see the face of light, the seething face of light. – 01.26.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל