Dawnings
Mourning the child that was
By Nicholas Hooper
Mourning the child that in sunshine new
Wandered a garden through early dew
Finding his thought that was his world
A whole long story his mind unfurled
Mourning the child who although he knew fear
Knew as well that his mother was near
To pick him up and hold him tight
Till all his darkness turned to light
Mourning the child with a life so simple
A space, a soul, a mind so ample
To find imagination so pure and so true
Could this child really be you?
Your hands are old your limbs are stiff
You look back on those days as if, as if
They really were true and that was all
But truthfully now, though they hold you in thrall
These mourning memories painted in gold
Are not the true stories that should now be told
The dark side was there as it still is right now
But sureness and love are companions that sow
seeds of hope from flowers past
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About Dawnings:
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”
— Nick Hooper