Jan 14
Into the Ever Bright and Clear
I remember this quite well: it was Christmas Eve 1972 in Sussex, England, when I wrote the original version of this song; a song I can still detect underneath its new (and better, in my view) coat of words and skeleton of melody. The core is the same, the hope is the same.
๐๐ถ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ช๐ต๐บ, ๐ท๐ถ๐ญ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ฃ๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ต๐บ, ๐ข๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด & ๐จ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ด๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ช๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ถ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด.
Raised by trolls in northern Sweden, now settled on the California coast a stoneโs throw south of the Oregon border. Here I meditate and write. Wolfstuff.com.
