Lullaby No. 3 - Memento Mori

The advent of new life
Whispered a fleeting notion of finitude
All that you strived to attain
Your departure from a home
Lost on the sprawling winds
Of deeply clutched desires
To satisfy the possibility
Sacrificed to become
What you are capable of becoming
The only end in life
Greater than your errant fashion
A brushing gesture that colors
Your travels the feathered hues
Of a dream once discovered
Once drove you to the border
Of your inherited culture
Where you stood in the brisk
Crystalline purity
On the banks of a river
That was always moving forward
Along the leading edge of your thought
And you watched it unfold
In the basin of your Reason
And the allure lost its hold
Upon the advent of time
You came down from Heaven
A fallen angel
To create a new body
Colored by the neverending journey
Of your mind
And as the ghosts of the past
Came to claw at your grounding
Having once took to the sky
You recalled the distance
And you never looked back
Despite your purposeful disregard
Of its direction
The river never let you go
It bound you in the throes of new life
And the demons of once before
They begged your happiness
Of what comes after
Alas it was your choice
And nothing more
And it echoed bountifully
In the soul of the world
It was your surety
That covered you
In the afterlife of your self
At the birth of your surrogate existence
The midnight river carries on
Unfolding throughout the valley
In the shadow of an Invisible Hope
A sacrifice that was not yours to make
A memento mori that was not your own
And in another life
You came home to your Son

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 2 - The Witching Hour

The witching hour
Was upon us
When the drawing motions
Of the womb
Pulled
At your consciousness
To writhe and claw
At the vestiges
Of that pure time
In the empty airs
Of the world
The midnight river
Running
Through your thoughts
And only your voice
Could fill
This new abyss
With the soulful nourishment
You were accustomed to
Through speaking
Could you render
The psyches
Of your creators
To nurture the progress
Of your being
And bend the will
Of existence
To include yours
And late in the noir
Of night
When it seemed
The power
Of your voice
Was faintest
A dark magic
Called forth
Your words
As if the moon
Had sway
O'er your soul
As if the patterns
Of the growing mind
Guided the becoming
Of your voice
And connected you
To a primordial power
Not your own
That you once held
But sacrificed
In your delivery
To shape dear time
With your voice
That reminded us
Of peace
Of humanity
That reminded us
Of home

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 1 - Unfold

All I want the spheres
To whisper to your spirit
That all is right in the world
That your being will be a bountiful echo
In the vast reiterations of time
Blessing these fleeting moments
To instill conviction
Into the growth of your body
That it may permeate your soul
And raise you to believe
In the force of your spirit
Against all
Against the vapid, soulless execution
Of the world's soul
By the pop culture communism of the heart
Corazon espinado
Tracing the one long night of life
In patterned, absurd construction
Clinging all along to the Invisible Hope
The deservance of a romance
Granting science and purpose
To all things material
Persistently recanting the ephemeral trends of thought
That would distort the outcome of your destiny
Defined by your presumption
In the onset of consciousness
Unfolding thy limbs and gaze
From the cave wherein shadows on the wall
Nurtured your perception of the light
Now thrown into the dynamic of its reflective subject
To draw again and again the original thought
Out from a deepest well of silence
Deja vu au courant

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com