Hey Poets— I know some of you have time to burn. Why not listen to these echoes from the Roman ruins for a while until, set free from earthly moorings, ready or not, you are launched into eternity to meet your righteous maker.

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine…
And no one showed us to the land and no one knows the where’s or why’s
But something stirs and something tries
and starts to climb towards the light…

Strangers passing in the street, by chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me…
And do I take you by the hand, and lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can…
And no one calls us to move on, and no one forces down our eyes
And no one speaks and no one tries
And no one flies around the sun…

Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise…
And through the window in the wall come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning…
And no one sings me lullabies and no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide and call to you across the skies…

 Echoes (Waters, Wright, Mason, Gilmour) 1971