Bruce Cockburn
You Point To The Sky
You point to the sky
The sky
Is reflected in your eyes
And I
Want to fly
On a carpet of brown leaves
We retrace the steps of change
Construct a tapestry of what will come You point to the sea
I see
What seems to be so free
Bound by
Empty sky
On a tower of gray earth
Far above the spray-struck stone
We climb toward the melting point of time Here we tumble down the path
Comic beggars trading laughs
For scraps from the tables of the wise
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