Feel So Near

There’s no posted photo today because this entry is so centered on the image in my mind. Ah, yes, a click can take you there – to a Flickr contact who doesn’t have a “blog this” link on this particular photograph.
That’s OK.
This image lives in memory. It lives out of time and is freed from the usual fetters.

For instance, it came swirling up into my consciousness this morning as I listened to this song by Dougie MacLean. And if I could control your actions, I’d have you click up the song at YouTube and ask you then to “minimize” it out of sight. Listen to the music and have this image in your mind.

You'll find me sitting at this table with my friend Finn and my friend John
My friend Murdaney tells us stories of things long gone, long gone
And we may take a glass together, the whisky makes it all so clear
It fires our dulled imaginations and I feel so near, so near

I feel so near, to the howling of the wind
Feel so near, to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near, to the flowers in the field
Feel so near

The old man looks out to the island, he says this place is endless here
There's no real distance here to mention we might all fall in, all fall in
There’s no distance to the spirits of the living, no distance to spirits of the dead
And as he turned his eyes were shining and he proudly said

I feel so near, to the howling of the wind
Feel so near, to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near, to the flowers in the field
Feel so near

So we build our tower of construction, there to mark our place in time
To justify our great destruction, as on we climb on we climb
Now the journey doesn't seem to matter, the destinations' faded out
But gathering out along the headlands, I hear the children shout, children shout

I feel so near, to the howling of the wind
Feel so near, to the crashing of the waves
Feel so near, to the flowers in the field
Feel so near