Lay me down on a bed of blue ice,
Cover me with a blanket of snow;
I know I will never return
Home,
You can now call me your own
/
Sing to me in the voice of a storm,
Look at me with the bright eyes of stars;
I know I will never return
Home –
My wounds will not turn to scars;
/
Wash my sweat and blood off your face,
The face which is now also mine;
I know I will never return
Home;
But I’ve been gone all my life:
/
It was you I’d been reaching for
It was me whom you chose to keep;
I know I will never return
Home –
The rocks below are too steep
Once there was a way to get back home… – Golden Slumbers – Beatles
Thanks, Carl! I’d better go listen to the Beatles than meditate on my upcoming expedition.
The tone of this one seems very lonely ..such a sad protrayal of what is to come.
Thanks for your comment! Loneliness can be very intense in the mountains, making one consider all kinds of possibilities – including this of ‘never returning’ – and how one feels about them.