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GEST Songs Of Newfoundland And Labrador
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I have a candle that was lit from a candle which was lit,
From a candle lit by the Dalai Lama;
It was a present from a friend, a long-haired follower of Zen,
Who uses words like "groovy", "cool" and "karma".
And though I've never met that gentle priest from Tibet,
In the candlelight his courage seems to shimmer;
So I hope his small wee flame will guide him home again,
And that one day his long exile will be over.
Now I have a photograph copied from a photograph,
From a photograph taken by my mother;
It's of me and my dad and it's the only one I have,
That shows the both of us together.
And I'm maybe nine or ten, I'm not looking at the lens,
But at something far beyond the photo's borders;
While behind me my dad stands, with his big work-roughened hands,
Resting lightly on my shoulders.
In my garden there's a rose that's a cutting from a rose,
Planted many years ago by my grandmother;
It's called the Evening Star, it's my favourite rose by far,
To me it has a fragrance like no other.
For it's scent, so sweet and clear, takes me back down through the years,
When the story of my life was still unwritten;
And where, a blank and happy page, safe and secure I played,
Amongst the roses in my grandmother's garden.
Deep inside me there's a soul that was born from a soul,
Born from the souls of all that went before us;
It's a strong unbroken line that stretches back through time,
My life a tiny beat of it's ancient chorus,
That reaches from the past to take me gently in it's grasp,
And turn me to the new day that is dawning;
It sings deep inside of me, for who I am and may yet be,
And of living of loving and belonging.
I have a candle that was lit from a candle which was lit,
From a candle lit by the Dalai Lama;
It was a present from a friend, a long-haired follower of Zen,
Who uses words like "groovy", "cool" and "karma".
And though I've never met that gentle priest from Tibet,
In the candlelight his courage seems to shimmer;
So I hope his small wee flame will guide him home again,
And that one day his long exile will be over.
Yes, I hope his small wee flame will guide him home again,
And that one day his long exile will be over.