The Calliope plays in the background
Like a rune cast by a muse,
Like a wave washing clean
The grains of sand in my memory.

When I am fully here
The aroma of the sea,
The glow of the moon, are all I need,
And the sound of silence has its own beautiful voice.

Sing me a poem
Like a babbling brook.
Dance me an ode to joy.
And then let my gratitudes
Outnumber the stars in the night.

I am the Calliope.
Play me.

                                                     
All my tears like water flow,
for the Lion,
for the Whale,
for the Elephant,
for the Horse,
for the Dog,
for the Eagle,
for the Ocean,
for the fellow man
inside of me.

I want to go where the flamingos fly.
I don't want this pain here in my heart.
Really don't know what's wrong;
feel like I don't belong.

Why don't we feel whatever we're supposed to feel?
We cut our nose to spite our face.
Ordinary people don't seem to comprehend
we're all about to go 'round the bend.

I feel naked in the jungle,
naked to the world,
and the rabbit's on the run.
I want to go where flamingos reach for the warmth of the sun.

When I was a child, I think it was eighth street,
when I first noticed the flowers and saw the light of God's eye
shining back deep inside of me,
dissolving the urge to flee.

The boy in me still dreams of sweet release,
laughing in the wind, crying in the rain,
like the swallow soars
and the lion roars.

It's gratitude that takes me there,
allays all fears.
It's giving thanks that dissolves all doubt
in what I'm all about.

Speak out, speak out, speak out
the Teachings tell us.
Each and every grain of sand
is offered by a generous hand.

Fly with me then.
Let us fly where the flamingos fly.
Where every apparent bind
dissolves in Gratitude and Wonder and Peace of Mind.