Shine through the darkness, penetrate the night.
Dawn beneath the shadows that overcast
those slumbering diamonds desperate for light;
uncovered memories, bejewelled to last.
Shine between the cracks of that shattered dream.
Gloss over edges that diminish hope,
polish up the threads of a golden seam;
discovered passions, rekindled to cope.
Shine upon a steel breeze, amend its mood.
Take the black dog and heat its cold intent
with warmth; the antidote is attitude;
recovered talents, refashioned to vent.
. Depression’s remedy is a light touch,
. a glimmer of hope, that will shine as such.
© Tim Grace, 2 December 2012
To the reader: For the discerning adolescent ear, Pink Floyd filled a ‘head space’ that responded to the musical dynamics of depth and complexity. The sound of other bands, including the Beatles, could tolerate the phonic limitations of an old record player. But, to best appreciate a Pink Floyd album it had to be dust-free and scratch-less. With the right hi-fi system, Pink Floyd could transform a bedroom into a theatre of ethereal sound.
To the poet: Pink Floyd’s first album ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’ (1967) contains eight lyrics penned by Syd Barrett. Read as poetry, it’s clear Syd knew how to craft a song; he knew the rules, and had a versatile bank of ‘tips and tricks’ in his wordsmith quiver. As an exercise, I wrote this sonnet as a sampler; at the same time acknowledging the traumatic demise of a shining star … condensed to a ‘crazy diamond’.