Golden Apples -

While you were still sleeping, I dreamed a wonderous dream:

I walked across a meadow with Anna Nazarene.

The wounds of desire that I thought had long been healed

were blooming deep inside me like the flowers of that field.

And she showed me golden apples hanging heavy from the trees,

on boughs all bent and broken with the weight of memories.

But I felt like a beggar to be standing in front of these

treasures I could not carry home.

I reached out for her body, but she turned away in shame.

She said, «I am not here: I am nothing but your pain.

And the wounds of desire that you want so much to feel

are all that stand between you and a love that’s really real.

And she showed me golden apples hanging heavy from the trees,

on boughs all bent and broken with the weight of memories.

But I felt like a beggar to be reaching out for these

treasures I could not carry home.

When are you going to quit your dreaming?

When are you going let your mind be clear?

When the morning sun comes screaming,

it will say, «When are you going to turn?

When are you going to turn?

When are you going to turn,

turn to what is here?»

Well I’ve fought so hard for love, but I think I see at last

that what I thought was love was just a war waged on the past.

So if I wake up crying, hold me in your peace.

Cut me from my garden.

Help me find release.

Yes, I know the golden apples are still hanging from the trees,

on boughs all bent and broken with the weight of memories.

And I know I’m still a beggar, but I will not stoop for these

treasures I cannot carry home to you.