Title art by Jordan Rudess

 

 

 

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Tangerine Dream “Astral Voyager”

 

 

 

 

Never make me sane
Should this love be deemed as crazed
Never ever wake me from this dream
For I have no wish to escape
The very second daylight beckons
Spirit me away
And I shall draw the curtains
Pull the drapes
To permeate luxuriated scene

 

The sun doth rise whence drawn in shadowscapes
Fed not by hand of fate but destinies that only we create
Our needs be great
To kiss
To chase
Embrace the one fine day we make a daisy chain from mazy pains that masquerade within the veins ablaze
Freeing every trapped nerve of desire we felt inclined to hide away
Seeking that which seemingly could never be acquired
Steeped in ultraviolet rays reflective of intensifying gaze
Creeping like a sprig of timely ivy through the haze of faded yesterdays and sorrowful tomorrows

 

Over hill and hollow
Where the eyes scarce dare to follow
You will see me in the garden standing bold
In hold of golden bow once wielded by Apollo
You will hear the deity Psalm
Taste the grape of greeting palms
You will feel my shielding arms of teaming calm around your bleeding heart
You will scent my healing balm in charm of every weeping scar adorned
For I foresee in thee a child of blessed fortune born
Nowise scorned by crown of thorns upon thine furrowed brow
Garments torn by varmints mourning grandeur of thine sprawling brocade gown

 

Go gentle into each good night
Rage hard against the day
You have my word the dying light will guide thine sighted way
Gleam of summer shalt subside the winters of thine disarray
Fallen springs shalt bloom again
Fraying wings assuming span
Consumed by love
Exhumed of hate
Thine fertile womb shalt birth and groom the perfume of improving lands
The sun shalt rise whence drawn in shadowscapes
Fed not by hand of fate but destinies that only you and I create

 

Never make me blessed
Should this love be deemed as damned
Never ever wake me from the dream so steeped in grand
Sever rind of blinding bind
And place thine bonny hand in mine
For we shalt sight the angels felled through telling kisses twined
The very second sorrow beckons
Dare to follow scarcest signs
Glare of river in thine eyes
To permeate illuminated scene
Never make me sane for in thine name this gorge be streamed
The madness of King George
Hath famed its Queen

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

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