The Nightly Vigil - After The Fiesta - written and read By Hank Beukema

From The Nightly Vigil - The Journals of Rev Buckman

After the Fiesta, with the little town and my family dead, I need to be alone...

I ride North and East for many days
Where to be October means something.
Where I ran and fished and hunted
As a child and learned the ways
Of the woods and of the Great One.
The trees are aflame in their private moondance of fire.
Against the blue of the Hudson River
Reflecting the cliff faces of Storm King,
It plays the illusion the Old Ones called
Riverdeep mountainhigh.

There is and will be another story for each of us.
The long golden tale of each precious life.
Some filled with love, Some filled with loss,
Mostly a measure of both.
Evry turn in the river
Takes the story to a new place.
Some we choose and some are chosen for us.
But, we are each of us even Now, immortal...
Whether to Heaven or Hell eventually,
our spirits will All be Forever...
That choice is always ours and ours alone...

How dim sometimes the Light we follow seems.
But when we get out from the towns and their false glow that
Robs our vision; Out under nothing but the sky and His face,
Our eyes will again divine the light and
The path thru the forest will shine like the Sun.

I smile to think of my past families,
Now gone on high, that walked this riverbank
With me so long ago.
They were so like the October trees,
Aflame and dancing with color and
Great beauty just before their private
Winter came and turned them gray.

In the creeping darkness, I whisper a prayer
That they would greet me in the spring
As the trees will, Reborn and ready
For another fling Around the Dancefloor.

Hank Beukema Copyright revbuckmanmusic 2004

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