Stream Descending

Copyright 1986 Dave Nealon


Mostly glimpses of sun, cloud, and wind on the Atlantic shore, but some scenes from the garden harvest and camping on Beagle Gap, too. Author Hannah Hurnard described the falling creek as a picture of the servant seeking the lowest place and yet mystically experiencing the high country. I remember almost feeling the ocean spray and smelling the campfire and hearing the whippoorwill while hidden away in the basement studio in the wee hours of the morning.


Stream Descending Copyright 1986 Dave Nealon It was only a moment disappointment flickered in your eyes but I could see And in that same instant I saw forgiveness in your tears Like stacks of clouds against the sunrise I'm washed in glory a guilty man Tear back my skin, crack open my ribcage, beat my sleeping heart with your hand With you hand And let the freedom roll around you Firelight glow around you Feel your soul start to sway And let the sea spray blow around you High tide flow around you Southwind tow your heart away The truth of our happiness isn't like my tired mind, my wandering eyes Or the bad taste of the day's events and the things I said still in my mouth We're clean as sky And we're feeding from the garden in the year of the drought, but we're not dry Love is like a stream descending, leaping down the mountain; it feels high It feels high There is a pleasure that's not in the pleasant moment It's in the memory of struggles of the past A trip to the top involves a slide to the bottom The way to win is racing to be last We spent the night on a baldhead peak The wind that swept the mountains brushed us, too And the whippoorwill called all through the night Till just before the first pale light filtered through We hiked back down and hurried home, backpacks filled with the breath of mountain sky Love is like a stream descending, leaping down the mountain, it feels high It feels high