Heartache and woe line passageways
when preparing to exit the common place
and debark at the station of grace
but I promise a pianist of note,
a drummer and trumpet player,
and a woman beside the river
of what has always been.
Clouds will desert this new playing field
and leave the sun clear to shine
like a symbol of love’s ever true heat
joining at last two separate parts.
The sky will be blue, the purest of blue,
like soul in its final renewal
and the wind of trust in its infancy
will determine a speedy growth.
And he who lies down in surrender
yet stands like a victor and champion
on the pedestal of love’s promise
to forgive and forget past waywardness.
This is the plan on the draft board of soul
or in the dreams of a woman I know
and I look out there, way out there …
and don’t you just simply love it
when a plan comes together?