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Song of Cecilia: Lyrics and assorted additions to the real-time novel

The Well (new, Jan. 2010)

The winds howled with change, in the year that I was born
We learned to hide under our desks at school, awaiting the storm.
History pierced our side, as we watched our president die
The lies raged on from the White House lawn, right before our eyes.

The well runs deep for those who seek, the clear water in the past
Within its depths, an ageless blessing, the sense of life everlasting.
The well rises high with the tears we’ve cried, the endless rain of pain.
Take this cup as David rose up, anointed and unafraid – drink from the well of faith.

Our thirst was vast and wide, we flew to outer space
We began to rock, refusing to stop, time became ageless
I hitchhiked from Monterey, wildflowers in my hair
Living to love in a time of war, tripping to become aware.

The well runs deep for those who reap the fertile seeds on the path.
Within its depths, a timeless test, the taste of life everlasting
The well rises high, at one with the tide in an effortless, rolling wave
Take this cup and rise above, anointed and unafraid – bathe in the well of fate.

The storm moved in from the south, as a coyote crossed our path.
Blood in its teeth, eyes of ice, there was no turning back.
The rock was smooth and sharp, cradled in my hand.
I let it fly, with a piercing cry, as God would guide my wrath.

The well is clear for those who hear, the pure music of their soul
Drop by drop, it will never stop, with a constant and even flow.
Take this cup as it is offered up from the fragile glass of days.
It is here you’ll find water turned to wine, and drink to your rightful place . . .
At the well of saving grace.

The lightning split the night and charged the well of life
The sky turned red, the coyote lay dead, struck down in full stride.

The well runs deep for those who seek, the clear water of the past
Within its depths, an ageless breath, answers without asking.
Take this cup as it is offered up – at the end of all your days.
It is here you’ll find blood turned to wine, and rise to your rightful place . . .
At the well of saving grace.

I drank to the change of fate, to the relentless truth of time
I drank until I could drink no more, at the well that never runs dry.