Wonderful to team up with Nic Evennett again to create this work.  For more of our work as Cellar Door: 

https://soundcloud.com/cdoor   

To hear Nic's amazing solo work:

https://soundcloud.com/nicevennett

Proud to announce that this track recently played on the After Eight Show in multiple countries.

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Lyrics:

Forgotten. this morning.
it never gave fair warning.
the flowers in paper,
but I'm still water vapour.
it's okay, you tell me,
but there's nothing to quell me.
afraid of my shadow
so come again tomorrow.

Isn't it glorious?
Sincerely.
Doesn't this moment smell alive?
I saw the whole world made from petals.
I saw the reason we survive.

the clicks of deciding,
the hand that you are guiding
so dearly. So nearly
but I can't see me clearly.
I'm laying here,
you're laying here
waiting for faith to reappear.
til my lifeboat
sails from your throat.
And I hear you say...

Isn't it glorious?
Sincerely.
Doesn't this moment smell alive?
I saw the whole world made from petals.
I found the reason we survive.

Yūgen (Nic Evennett and Classical Glass as Cellar Door)

Inspired by the poem "Becalmed" by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

Becalmed upon the sea of Thought,
Still unattained the land it sought,
My mind, with loosely-hanging sails,
Lies waiting the auspicious gales. 

On either side, behind, before,
The ocean stretches like a floor,--
A level floor of amethyst,
Crowned by a golden dome of mist. 

Blow, breath of inspiration, blow!
Shake and uplift this golden glow!
And fill the canvas of the mind
With wafts of thy celestial wind. 

Blow, breath of song! until I feel
The straining sail, the lifting keel,
The life of the awakening sea,
Its motion and its mystery!

Becalmed

Far From the Madding Crowd

Remains of the Day

Just Breathe

Atonement

Susurrus =  low soft sound, as of whispering or muttering; a whisper; a rustling’

Susurrus

Surrender

Inspired by the painting "Refuge" by the American realist painter Andrew Wyeth (1917-2009).

Refuge

Ondine is a girl's name of Latin origin. This name translates to “little wave” and is an alternate spelling of undine, classified as a category of elemental water-dwelling creatures.

Ondine

Misericordia

2 AM: A Nocturne

So it Begins

One of the true pleasures of living in a northern country is the occasional feeling of the warmth of the winter sun on your face. There's a word for this --apricity. A brief burst of apricity warms both the body and the spirit.

Apricity

The composition was inspired by the poem "Crossing the Water" by the American poet Sylvia Plath (1932-1963).

Crossing the Water

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

Crossing the Water

Inspired by the final lines from the poem Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

"The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."



Intimations: A Prelude

Aisling is Irish Gaelic word meaning dream, vision, apparition

Aisling

Yutori is the Japanese concept of consciously slowing down to allow us to savour the world around us.

Yutori

Pathétique: First Movement

Pathétique: 2nd Movement

This composition was inspired by a reading of the poem "When You Are Old" by the Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865-1939).

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

The Pilgrim Soul in You

Inspired by the short poem "Dust of Snow" by the American poet Robert Frost.

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.


A Dust of Snow

Kintsugi is an art form that embodies the philosophy of wabi-sabi which values the beauty of imperfection and transience. Kintsugi also serves as a metaphor for embracing our flaws and imperfections in life seeing them as a source of strength and beauty and finding resilience in the face of adversity. 

Kintsugi

Sillage 
(SEE-yahz)
(n.) The lingering sense of someone's presence, like a perfume left in a room, evoking memory and absence.

Sillage

Reposted with the added vocals of Lien.  My many thanks to Lien for graciously enriching this composition with his amazing talent. You can find more of Lien's wonderful music here https://soundcloud.com/lien-thag

Inspired by the poem "The Peace of Wild Things" by the American poet Wendall Berry.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The Peace of Wild Things (featuring Lien)

The Battle of Passchendaele was a major World War I campaign fought by the Allies against the German Empire on the Western Front from July to November 1917.  It is widely remembered as a vivid symbol of the horrific fighting conditions, particularly the deep mud, and immense casualties for minimal strategic gain. The village of Passchendaele was eventually captured by Canadian troops on November 6, 1917, and the nearby ridge was secured by November 10, when the campaign ground to a halt. The advance was a mere five miles, achieved at an enormous cost of an estimated 275,000 to over 400,000 Allied casualties and around 220,000 to 400,000 German casualties. The ground gained was ultimately abandoned by the British in the face of a German offensive the following year. The name "Passchendaele" has since become synonymous with the brutal and often futile nature of trench warfare during the First World War.

Passchendaele

A Midnight Clear

The Light We Cannot See

This composition was inspired by a reading of the poem, "The Swan" by Mary Oliver.

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

So Says the Swan

Requiescence

Tristesse in F minor

“A painter paints pictures on canvas but musicians paint their pictures on silence.” -  Leopold Stokowski

A member of Cellar Door. You can find us here: https://soundcloud.com/cdoor

"The most powerful and magical language is music. The reason for this is that music is the original language. Music is not ornamented poetry, and poetry is not ornamented prose. Poetry is fallen music, and prose is fallen poetry. Prose is not the original language; it is poetry made practical. Even poetry is not the original language; it is music made speakable, it is the words of music separated from their music. In the beginning was music." (Peter Kreeft, Philosophy of Tolkien)

Classical Glass

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