Sunday, November 3, 2013

I Have Found the Terrapin Station

Please allow me to jump off the deep end with this one
Full blown gone in an instant
A little trip to the water's edge
To dip my finger in the starry lake of the cosmos
And watch the ringlets glow and bounce
In the light of the brand new crescent moon
As the crickets and cicadas sing

I have found the Terrapin Station

Tucked away in the old swamplands
Of Robert Hunter's California
A wind blown whistlestop
On the edge of the one time
Sunbeaten prairie valley swamp

Near the old ghost lake of legend
Who's crystal clear waters
Would reflect the sky so
That terrapins seemed as if to float
In midair amongst the clouds

A soldier came from the east
To build a station in the sun
Where all the migratory birds
Of the west fly low and fast
Over the scrubland grass
As the ladies with their fans
Chase away the stifling vapors

100 years ago this station rose
Out of the dust and alkali ashes
Of civil and racial unrest
Injustice and unequivocal inhumanity
Towards a race separated only in skin color

A shame and abomination still laid upon the land
As the war had been won
But society's ills were still hell bent
On inequality and prejudice towards itself
Traces of these feelings can still be found
Both on the fringes and rooted deep
Within the world today

This phoenix born in the sun and dust
Rising briefly but shining bright
As so Venus in the night sky
Was spurred on as a place of peace and respite
A watering hole for the soul to live free and thrive
A city of angels amongst
The backdrop of the demon's inferno

Directly across the waters from the old Terrapin Bay
The banjo and tambourine jams
Gospel revelry drifting across ancient waters
Organ pipes churning out hymns to the winds
Praises drifting gracefully to the starry expanse above

Dreams of new beginnings
Alongside old terrapin stomping grounds
Beside freshly laid ivory tracks
For rosewoods wheels to spin away

Rails of transportation to bring
The masses to the holy fireside gatherings
Of this ghost oasis in the sands
And oh how the sands of time
Did wear away here at the station

The terrapins' home is dried and gone
Well waters ran dry
And the town mostly moved on
As the soldier died - the dream grew dim
But memories live on in song and hymn

And the old ghost lake
Likes to show itself now and again
As the new crescent moon and Venus
Hide behind silvery broken storm clouds

Robert may not have been thinking
Along these lines when he wrote his
But hey - it sorta fits right?

Scrubland grasses as far as the eye can see

Slivers of the old ghost lake still remain

No comments:

Post a Comment