Ancient Questions

Was it a dream Where I wandered off the trail Aimlessly drawn And came to a clearing On the hill of town Still hearing calls And a circle of stone Surrounded a pool of black water and sky Where I reached in and pulled out a song Ceremoniously young I think I dreamt it Standing on the street in the wind looking south Hunting for singing Indulging imagining words in the wind But nothing means nothing Everything is fleeting Don't get used to it I say, look upon the ruins Two distant branches on the hill There's no song, no sacredness now What I'd called the spirit world blows into dust Like me, and the song Born of alienation Ancient questions Answered alive in me again Indulging imagining words in the wind But nothing means nothing Everything is fleeting Don't get used to it I say, look upon the ruins Voice in the branches Pulling me still.