FROM BOTH SIDES NOW
Illusions are art, for the feeling person, and it is by art that we live, if we do.
- Elizabeth Bowen
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NdsnFZm0X4
From Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell on The Mama Cass Show 1969
ILLUSIONS
Wisteria on a window sill; peeling paint inside
beauty on the outside; pain contained within.
Timeless faded grandeur; true nature reaches out;
divided by transparent walls; secured by secret pins.
Ethereal light and palest mauve; red muted in the dark;
the blossoms of a different world will always light my heart,
as I inhale the musky scent, that sets my soul on fire;
release a long-held memory; recall a sultry night,
I hear a sound of tinkling bells; a call of distant drums;
a whispered sweetness in my ear, before I close my eyes.
I fall into the deepest sleep and dream of harps and choirs;
of angels, minstrels, knights and realms; of jesters, larks and lyres.
An archer strikes, with cupid's bow, the centre of my heart,
before I taste that one sweet kiss; I wake up with a start.
Reality it seems to me is what we can create,
but also we can choose to dream and leave the rest to fate …
- AP – Copyright remains with the author
'copyright image please do not reproduce without permission'
FROM BOTH SIDES NOW
Illusions are art, for the feeling person, and it is by art that we live, if we do.
- Elizabeth Bowen
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NdsnFZm0X4
From Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell on The Mama Cass Show 1969
ILLUSIONS
Wisteria on a window sill; peeling paint inside
beauty on the outside; pain contained within.
Timeless faded grandeur; true nature reaches out;
divided by transparent walls; secured by secret pins.
Ethereal light and palest mauve; red muted in the dark;
the blossoms of a different world will always light my heart,
as I inhale the musky scent, that sets my soul on fire;
release a long-held memory; recall a sultry night,
I hear a sound of tinkling bells; a call of distant drums;
a whispered sweetness in my ear, before I close my eyes.
I fall into the deepest sleep and dream of harps and choirs;
of angels, minstrels, knights and realms; of jesters, larks and lyres.
An archer strikes, with cupid's bow, the centre of my heart,
before I taste that one sweet kiss; I wake up with a start.
Reality it seems to me is what we can create,
but also we can choose to dream and leave the rest to fate …
- AP – Copyright remains with the author
'copyright image please do not reproduce without permission'