I went walking down by the ocean today
And I transcended the layers of my ego and felt my roots

And you came running to me in your earth-mother burlap dress babe
And we ran toward each other on the sand

And our life goes in circles inside of other circles
And sometimes I don’t know where the exit door is

And we’re trapped in our illusions and we believe in our delusions
But I think as time passes by we’ll get it together

Oh yeah

We know the winter earth upon the body of the young
President, and the early dark falling:
we know the veins grown quiet in his temples and
wrists, and his hands and eyes grown quiet;
we know his name written in the black capitals
of his death, and the mourners standing in the
rain, and the leaves falling;
we know his death’s horses and drums; the roses, bells,
candles, crosses; the faces hidden in veils;
we know the children who begin the youth of loss
greater than they can dream now;
we know the night long coming of faces into the candle-
light before his coffin, and their passing;
we know the mouth of the grave waiting, the bugle and
rifles, the mourners turning away;
we know the young dead body carried in the earth into
the first deep night of its absence;
we know our streets and days slowly opening into the
time he is not alive, filling with our footsteps and
voices;
we know ourselves, the bearers of the light of the earth
he is given to, and the light of all his lost
days;
we know the long approach of summers towards the
healed ground where he will be waiting, no longer the
keeper of what he was.
—Wendell Berry

My apologies for the horrific sound quality. My phone jumped to my tiny blue tooth speaker and used it as microphone. As I was in a hurry, I did not proof it before posting.