A poem about how we are forced into paths and patterns without being aware of what exists only a few steps away.
The power of the spoken word or spoken image.
Story behind the song
Based on the times as a child I watched the freight trains going over the Hell's Gate Bridge in New York City from Astoria Park.
Lyrics
When I was a child, I watched the freight trains
On the trestle above the Golden River.
Car after car in an infinite line,
A black one, a dirty white, a pale purple, a faded green,
The Scraped blue, the dark brown-red
All in line obedient drawn to somewhere unspoken
Going nowhere of will, but only following the one before.
The lead engines were powerful and sure
With hearts of pride, they would endure.
But they too locked in line by tracks unbending.
Some were amazed at the ancient procession,
But I was dismayed at the shackled parade.
Then the horn sounded, such a longing calling
Echoing off buildings set square in the streets.
On the crosshatch parade grounds
They watched in defeat.
I’m sure there is wind that blows where it will,
I’m sure there is forest and skies blinding blue,
I ‘m sure there’s a creature that travels unhindered
To the edge of a new and unexpected view.
Excellent work, Larry! I love it!