3. Stolen Seasons

05:50
Roman Rhodes: vocals, acoustic guitar, & bass/ Paul Fleisher: Piccolo, Bass Clarinet / Atsushi Akazawa: Violin/ Kyoko Fukuzawa: Keyboards/ Naruhisa Tanimoto & John Hulaton: Drums & Percussion
12/25/2005
Words & Music Roman Rhodes

Story

This song came out in a spurt when I realized I made it early to a teaching job and had an extra, unexpected 30 minutes of free time. I ducked into a café and began writing. I was trying to capture that magic feeling you find within everything when you get a glimpse beyond the wheel of life. I had recently had a moment in the busy streets of Osaka on my way to a job, much like the monk in the film Baraka: despite all the chaos and cement about me I suddenly had a very clear sense of the incredible minuteness of our planet, and of the vast emptiness of space stretching both above and below and all about me. This simple thought transported me so quickly my whole body was trembling, but an incredible peace was within. Trying to balance both Buddhist concepts of transcendence with pagan worship of reality(like Whitman), the song aims to show the oneness within the life cycle of work, love, marriage, children. And I had recently watched Shakespeare in Love, written by Tom Stoppard, and there is that line where Shakespeare with his lover are lying in bed and one says, "This isn't real life, it's a stolen season." What I am trying to say is the illicit love is real, and it is through that reality that they transcend.  

"Donkey Christ":  in the ancient pagan world, long before Christianity, the cult of Isis from which the whole christ story is ultimately derived, the donkey was the symbol of the physical body and one's enslavement to the flesh.  To become awakened and spiritual, you had to sacrifice the donkey body.   There are even images pre-christ, of donkeys, being sacrificed on crosses.  The initiates to the cult, rode into town on donkeys before being initiated into the mysteries. Christianity merely borrowed or stole this.

Lyrics

Stolen Seasons

1.
Met you on a brief sojourn, on the globe of golden thorns.
Rode through like a donkey Christ, ready for a sacrifice.
Then came the big surprise,
When we crossed the bridge of eyes over a cup of ice latte.
Always knew I was not wise,
But never knew that my demise would come that way.
   Ah cupid you've been so nice
   To give the give of love, so much greater than reason.
   Sad that it was not life,
   Instead of this constant strife, but grateful for that stolen season.

2.
Rush to work in Babylon, thorns still stick, but sun is gone.
Hung upon the worker's cross: earn a living feel the loss.
But in a brief respite,
Golden words come from you to write over a cup of hot tea.
Suddenly I see wise,
I feel my spirits rise within the cup of me.
  Ah muse you've been so nice
  To give the give of sight, so much greater than reason. z
  Sad that it was not life
  Instead of this constant strife, but grateful for that stolen season.

3.
Hieros Gamos, children are born, Watch them wear the crown of thorns.
Torture of angels is parents plight: witness their trials in patient fright.
Yet in this valley of dark and light
Feel the bliss and strange delight over a pail of water.
Dreams of the after life
Calmed by the continued life of your son and your daughter.
  Ah Gods, you've been so nice
  To give the gift of life so much greater than reason.
   Fuses fail and fuses light, But this too is life, this stolen season.

Instrumental

4.
Like Yeat's inverted gyre, we're brought low as we're brought higher.
Balance surrounds yet can't be seen: found in opposite and extremes.
Chase it but can't catch the gleam,
Hidden in both the high and mean, everywhere but can't be seen or grasped.
Fingers clenched, slips in between;
Appears briefly in a dream; you'll know it when it makes you laugh.
  Ah, Tao, you've been so nice
  To give the gift of the life, so much greater than reason.
 
 The happy, peaceful, eternal light,  
  Piercing the darkest night, seen in these stolen seasons.

Music

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