I wrote this song on the train to Wittenberg while reading the poetry of Emily Bronte. While thinking about distance and separation I remembered a Shakespearean Sonnet, which had something about miles being measured by grief, and grief being nearer than peace, and anyway I'm terrible at reciting poetry from memory. I called the poem I was writing "Measured Miles." When I got home, I looked it up.
Shakespeare wrote:
Sonnet L
How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider lov'd not speed being made from thee.
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan,
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
For that same groan doth put this in my mind,
My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
I tried to respond to old Bill by giving him some new age advice about letting go, living in the now, and seeing home for the cloud castle it really is.
lyrics
Morning meansured miles
The distance is mostly mine
Setting off o'er a year ago
My griefs nearer than my repose
You laughed in the telephone
Though I telegraph the punchlines home
Your patience is second to none
But it's gonna be a hard earned one
Morning measured miles
Will another year spin round the dial
And when the distance grows beyond repair
Will you be waiting there?
That grave is more than mine
Though I lose the plot from time to time
When I drink of the spring of bliss
And joy floods the barren plains of pain
I'll remember measured miles
How the years have spun around the dial
And how the distance grows beyond repair
Would you be waiting?
Because I could never wait out there
Embrace the now, let down your cares
I could never wait out there
There in the air, in the sea
You can't turn back time
Home's in the air, in the sea.
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