Due north of legend lies mystic fabled fields where gray skies clear
All are welcome where the sky and mountains meet
Where the moon lies asleep
It's said it's peaceful there living life without a care with all who've passed before
No need to pack a thing
A smile is all you need to bring
The rest leave outside your door
To wishing fields I go because I got to know there's more then I can see
If you feel the same I’ll be awful glad you came
I’ll be waiting there for you
When you touch the top your host is waiting where your worries start to fade
Then your thoughts divide
Good up front
Your heart is set free
There your fears’ll fall down the mountain one and all
As Hope assumes her claim
And if the fears try and reappear harmony will steer them clear
With the sound of your satis soul
In wishing fields we'll find revealed these mysteries sealed and clued
There the clouds will mimic mountains who's peaks aspire to be stars
If anyone asks please tell them to wishing fields I've gone
Copyright © 1992/2018: albinosongs
Albino Guimaraes Vocals & Guitar
Joe Boyle Electric Guitars
Bill Holloman Flute, Trumpet, Flugelhorn & Saxophones
Joe O’Brien Bass Guitar
Jon Peckman Drums & Percussion
Behind The Song...
My father's older brother died just as I was becoming conscious of the true trials of life. I remember so vividly my Uncle's face as I left his hospital room, for what would be the last time. Seared into my memory is my final glance from my position safely beyond the threshold of the doorway back upon the fear in his eyes. Was it his fear or was mine? I am sorry I was not able to be stronger for him at that moment. I was scared and I ran.
What do we face in our final moment? Is it knowable?
Behind some very scratched plastic on the wall of the far end of a 4,5 & 6 subway car headed downtown I read a poem called "Heaven" by Patrick Phillips:
"It will be the past and we'll live there together.
Not as it was to live but as it is remembered.
It will be the past. We'll all go back together.
Everyone we ever loved, and lost, and must remember.
It will be the past. And it will last forever."
I would like it to be that. And if it were to be that, there would be nothing to be afraid of. Yet, here I am... afraid. Perhaps because I fear I know a very different answer. One which I do not wish to commit to. In this vein, another NYC Poem hangs over my desk at home. It is by Stephen Crane and it reads:
A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe.
"The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."
"Wishing Fields" is an adult fairy tale....I wish it to be true.