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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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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A land of stars, a land of prayers,
Whispers rise, fueled by fears.
One seeks control, the other aid,
A game of thrones, carefully played.
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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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A lost boat tossed, on a stormy sea,
Finds harbor, safe and peacefully.
A.A.'s lights, a guiding star,
Leading souls from near and far.
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A pine stands tall, a friend I see,
Along the path, just like me.
Roots run deep, I feel it too,
Connected close to sky so blue.
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Two Fifty Years Have Come and Gone,
Since Freedom's seeds were bravely sown.

But whispers now, of troubled times,
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One man stands, he holds the reins,
An autocrat, in sun and rain.
He says the word, and things are done,
His power is vast, for everyone.
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When death arrives, don't hide in dread,
Don't let your heart be filled with lead.
Let not your spirit shrink and cower,
Because your ending's drawing power.
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A mind that drifts, a heart that sighs,
Can't just sit still beneath the skies.
The hands must move, the spirit leap,
From slumber deep, from shadows sleep.
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The Beatles sang of a swirling ride,
Helter Skelter, side to side.
A simple song, a joyful sound,
But darkness gathered all around.
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August '69, a field of green,
A promise whispered, a hopeful scene.
Fifty thousand, they thought would come,
But hearts arrived, a beat like a drum.
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Tiny hands, soft and small,
Reach to touch, to hold it all.
Clay so cool, a gentle squeeze,
Building dreams with happy ease.
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The bottle calls, a lonely fight,
Some cling so tight, with all their might.
'My life, ' they say, 'I choose my way, '
But darkness grows with each new day.
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The hill gives way, a muddy tear,
Where houses stood, now only fear.
A sudden rush, a roaring sound,
Homes swept away, lost on the ground.
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Across the sands, a shimmer bright,
A city rose, in golden light.
A fata morgana, grand and tall,
Where he and she heard a call.
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Sunday's bells don't always call,
To pews and stained glass, standing tall.
The screen can glow, a different way,
With hymns and prayers to start the day.
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