Mountain-dwelling rascalfarian folkrocker, poet, deep-thinker, spiritual but not religious guitarist and songwriter with 2 CD releases, one poetry book, and a f
Story behind the song
We die more than one death. Sometimes a few times a day. Different kinds of deaths. We can treat them as practice for the big, final death at the end of all our days. Many a late afternoon on the schoolyard growing up, I'd melt into a moment of peace, serenity, no-thought, pure being...
Lyrics
I PRACTICE DYING
As the air cools
As the leaves prepare to turn
I watch, I wait, I practice dying
I watch, I wait, I practice dying
No one is home where I live at the ending of the day
When the sun dips down toward the western mountains
I am alone where I live the best time of day
When it backlights each leaf, and peeks behind the shed
And fills each speck of everything between here and there
And suddenly, its gone
As the stars reveal themselves
As the crazy tantric moon climbs
I watch, I wait, I practice dying
I watch, I wait, I practice
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