THE PAINTER AND THE GREEN

He leaves the hills behind him, and their green a memory A painted stroke now washes, what all he thought he’d be Still the freshness cutting, across his tender nose Lingers like a humming, that grows and never goes

There is a road like nothing, they’ll ever know or not It’s coming and it’s going, it’s all but never stops Except for him that dares to, turn along the way And pause to smell the grass that’s giving, grace to every day

Except for him that takes that, snapshot of a dream The rest are everlasting, and also evergreen Except for him that sees the, hiccup on the wind And tries to touch a teacup drop, for just a hair length pin

For him the road is ending, ever and again For him the green is fading, it’s Nature’s game to win For him the grass is rushing, summer sun to rain To castles in the pillows, that whip the hailing pain

For him the sky knows weeping, the earth knows how to pray The roots are grasping greatly, against their own decay The birds are climbing heaven’s gate, and trusting it is true Just as they also know the sea, reflects the self same blue

For him the green goes swiftly, a painting of a day The farther on he rumbles, the more he wants to stay The more he grasps the brushes, the colors fade away The more he wants, this painter, to love another day

For him the green grows greener, the season comes again And for the colder cursing, warmer returns his friend Because he turned to holding, he saw how fists did fail And because he knows the losing, he loves at just that scale

There is a green road winding, And if you be he I am your friend in binding, Before you set me free.