We wish we could yes
Sit at a nice desk
Make all the right quotes
Play all the right notes
Sell out to get right
We all know the score
All cards on the floor
Sad to discuss truth

Alone on a boat
Outmanned to sea lost
Fairness at what cost
Monsters do come here
Flailing to save me
Teams twice falling down
Mention the sad clown
Tension displayed framed

Came back to find
All of this time
Wasted away
Was never in line
Now gone today
All my fears and hate
Bottled and sold
Was never too late

Stepping quiet game
Face up to take back
What was is now lost
Turn to escape fault
Beaten inside mind
Full of the same thoughts
Coming at your fall
Breeding false hope home

Lost in what if's rains
Bouncing off walls built
Contain the calm well
Torture repeat fake
Wish we could make links
These days become weeks
Further discuss beats
Hearts get tangled free

Design as planned caged
Those times are now gone
High stakes to keep close
What to expect now
Taken dissolved made
Hoping waiting fade
Guided to take on
Your light that shined on

Came back to find
All of this time
Wasted away
Was never in line
Now gone today
All my fears and hate
Bottled and sold
Was never too late

All Of This Time

Extracts from The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver by Edna St Vincent Millay 1892-1950
Recital from LibriVox.org read by Linda Leu

“Son,” said my mother,
   When I was knee-high,
“You’ve need of clothes to cover you,
   And not a rag have I”.
 
“There’s nothing in the house
   To make a boy breeches,
Nor shears to cut a cloth with
   Nor thread to take stitches.”
 
“There’s nothing in the house
   But a loaf-end of rye,
And a harp with a woman’s head
   Nobody will buy,”  
   And she began to cry.
 
…

Men say the winter
   Was bad that year;
Fuel was scarce,
   And food was dear.
 
A wind with a wolf’s head
   Howled about our door,
And we burned up the chairs
   And sat on the floor.
 
All that was left us
   Was a chair we couldn’t break,
And the harp with a woman’s head
   Nobody would take,
   For song or pity’s sake.
 
…

Looking nineteen,
   And not a day older,
And the harp with a woman’s head
   Leaned against her shoulder.
 
Her thin fingers, moving
   In the thin, tall strings,
Were weav-weav-weaving
   Wonderful things.
 
Many bright threads,
   From where I couldn’t see,
Were running through the harp-strings
  Rapidly,
 
…

There sat my mother
   With the harp against her shoulder
Looking nineteen
   And not a day older,
 
A smile about her lips,
   And a light about her head,
And her hands in the harp-strings
   Frozen dead.
 
And piled up beside her
   And toppling to the skies,
Were the clothes of a king’s son,
   Just my size.

The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver

JIM ANDERS _Bombe

Qui Est Là

I'm Working for An AI

A great pleasure to accompany @walkingears
Original track:
https://soundcloud.com/walkingears/21-3-14a?si=abe301a3725e4399ba8d871c91687be7&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
(Opening and closing sections: flute duo; middle sections: soprano sax duo).

LOTUS MIX (WBE | WalkingEars [21 3 14])

Sometimes you have to break free from 'classical' strictures and do your own thing. 
Vocals, instrumental, arrangement, mix: Nadia Selvaggi
Music by Henry Purcell

Henry Purcell's Evening Hymn

Together Again

I made it with the image of being bathed in the sunlight on a summer day.🌻
The hot days continue, but be careful of heat stroke!🫗
thank you for listening！😊！

DAW: Cubase pro 13

I'm Working for An AI

Tom Kreitinger