Tor Magnor Solvang

The stars are scattered, dust of light,
Across a velvet, endless night.
A universe so vast and deep,
Where secrets sleep, and planets keep
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Sixty-six stories, a river so wide,
One message whispers, deep inside.

From Eden's dawn to Heaven's bright door,
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Alone I sit, the water falls,
A cool spray on my skin.
I try to hear some music there,
Where does the song begin?
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Secrets hidden for so long,
Stories whispered, right or wrong.
Now a light begins to gleam,
Old ties kept, behind the scene.
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A whispered word, on Patmos' shore,
John saw a King, forevermore.

Not just a past, a story told,
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From cradle small to final rest,
A lesson learned, a constant quest.
Life's gentle school, where we all grow,
A winding path, both high and low.
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In Boston town, where freedom grew,
A mighty bell, for all to view,
Will ring again, a joyful sound,
As SAIL250 sets the bound.
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A truck driver named Larry, bold and bright,
Had a dream that took flight, a funny sight.
A lawn chair, balloons, forty and five,
He thought he'd gently rise, just to thrive.
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If my dog could speak, you see,
This is what she'd say to me:

'Bowl is empty! Feed me now!
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From the Arctic Circle, cold and white,
My little boat sails, towards the warm shiny light.
I don't know the reason, truth to be told,
But south I will go, to find sunshine and 'gold'.
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The threads they pull, a piece at a time,
Leaving you bare, a different paradigm.
Your heart, your worth, misjudged and unseen,
A twisted picture, hurtful and mean.
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The Comic Hat, a mighty name,
Across old Europe, spread his flame.
He marched and fought, a winning streak,
Until at Waterloo, so bleak.
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If words, a gentle praise or sting,
Cause you to crumble, clip your wing,
The game of life will be a fight,
A lonely path, without much light.
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The space they left, a hollow ache,
A silence that our hearts can break.
We see their ghost in sunlit rooms,
In half-filled cups, familiar tunes.
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A bumpy friend, a toad I see,
In my yard, he comes to be.
He seeks the damp, the shady spot,
Where bugs and flies will soon be caught.
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Salted fish, a tale so grand,
From Norway's shores to sunlit land.
Dried cod it was, sent south with care,
To Spanish sun, and warmer air.
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March can be cool, we all know,
Sometimes with rain, or a bit of snow.
But today, a surprise so bright,
The sun shone down with golden light.
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In Vik by Sognefjord so blue,
A wooden church, strong and true.
Nine hundred years it's stood so tall,
Since long ago, before the fall
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A little house, I made with care,
For feathered friends to live in there.
High in the maple, strong and tall,
I nailed it fast, then left it all.
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Family ties, a special thread,
Stronger than water, it's said.
Blood that binds, a loving art,
Closer to kin, within the heart.
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