In my travels, I find a song by Karen Ann called Lay Your Head Down.
In fact, last night was the night of the WorldwideWonderWeb. Whatever you're into, check these out:
For the photographers: John McPherson's Museum of Rubbish
For the artists:
Edgar Allan Poe/lar Bear by FrenchToast Girl, Elena Nazarro
For the music lovers: Yeti Don't Dance
For the film lovers, the creatives and the animal angels: Ashes and Snow
And for the heart...
Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith
I listen and look
under the sun's brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can't hear
anything, I can't see anything --
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,
nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker --
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk.
And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing --
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,
the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet --
all of it
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.
And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt
swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.
From West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems, by Mary Oliver. Published by Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. Copyright 1997 by Mary Oliver. Reprinted by permission.