What's Become of the Baby?

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Waves of violet go crashing and laughing

The rainbow-wing singing birds fly 'round the sun

Sun bells rain down in a liquid profusion

Mermaids on horses draw up the dawn

What's become of the baby this cold December morning?



Songbirds frozen in their flight

Drifting to the earth, remnants of forgotten dreaming

Dawning answer comes there none.



Go to sleep you child dream of never-ending always

Panes of crystal ice sparkle like waterfalls

Lighting the polished ice caverns of the dawn,

But where in the looking-glass fields of illusion

Wandered the child who was perfect as the dawn?

What's become of the baby this cold December morning?

What's become of the baby this cold December morning?



Racing in rhythms of the sun

All the world revolves captured in the eye of woman

Allah, where are you now?



All eyes are blinded by the sparkling waters

Scheherazade gathering stories to tell

From primal gold fantasy petals that fold,

But where is the child who played with the sunshines?

And chased the cloud shape to the regions of mind?

"Standing stream" cries the south wind

Lost in the regions of

shadow-like chains of illusion, delusions of living and dead