through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
the sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
that the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
and the poet and the painter fall behind this rightful time
and we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
luni, septembrie 21
CHIMES OF FREEDOM | bob dylan
