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Soria Moria

Mount Eerie


Slow pulsing
Red tower lights
Across a distance
Refuge in the dust

All my life I can remember longing
Looking across the water and seeing lights
When I was five or six
we were camping in the islands in July
The tall yellow grass
and the rose hips fragrant after sunset
Island beyond island. Undulating and familiar
Not far from home, with my fragrant, whittled
cedar driftwood dagger in the mildew canvas tent
I saw fireworks many miles away
but didn't hear them, and I felt a longing
a childish melancholy
and then I went to sleep and the aching was buried
dreaming, aging, reaching
for an idea of somewhere
other than this place that could fold me
in clouded yearning for nowhere actually reachable
The distance was the point

And then when I was twenty-four
I followed this ache to an arctic Norwegian cabin
where I said "fuck the world"
in a finally satisfying way
I stayed through the winter
and emerged as an adult holding a letter from you
an invitation, so I flew back
and drove back and when we met in person
it was instant. It didn't matter
where we lived as long as we were together
and that was really true for thirteen years
And the whole time still

Slow pulsing
Red tower lights
Across a distance
Refuge in the dust

In January, you were alive still
but chemo had ravaged
and transformed your porcelain into some other thing
something jaundiced and fucked
They put you in the hospital in Everett
so I gave the baby away
and drove up and down I-5 every night
like a satellite bringing you food that you wanted
returning at night to sleep in our bed, cold
I went back to feel alone there
all past selves and future possibilities on hold
while I tore through the dark on the freeway
the old yearning burning in me
I knew exactly where the road bent around
Where the trees opened up and I could see
Way above the horizon
Beyond innumerable islands
The towers on top of the mountain lit up slowly
silently beaconing as if to say, "Just keep going
There is a place where a wind
could erase this for you and the branches
could white noise you back awake. "
So I went back to feel alone
there but cradled you in me
(In the National Gallery in Oslo
there's a painting called Soria Moria
A kid looks across a deep canyon of fog
at a lit up inhuman castle or something.)

I have not stopped looking across the water
from the few difficult spots
where you can see that the distance
from this haunted house where I live to Soria Moria
is a real traversable space
I'm an arrow now
Mid air

Slow pulsing
Red tower lights
Across a distance
Refuge in the dust
Confirmação de Idade

Esta letra possui restrição de idade, você deve ter mais que 18 anos para acessá-la.

Compositor: Phillip Whitman Elverum

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