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May 12, 2009


Before I knew about the Beatles, the Who, or Led Zeppelin, the only album I ever borrowed from my parents was a compilation of new age music called Pure Moods.

Seeing as I didn't start hanging out with cool people until junior year, at the time I wrote the following poem, I was still jamming away to Enigma, the theme from The X-Files, and other songs where the backup singers were ghosts.

The most famous song on the Pure Moods album was "Sail Away" by Enya ("Sail-loo-weh… Sail-loo-weh… Sail-loo-weh…"). I loved that song. I used to close my eyes and listen to that song and pretend that I was a famous modern dancer who only danced to Enya songs. I had flat abs and would wear silky costumes. It was a wonderful fantasy.

"Sail Away" was my life force. It was my anthem. It was also probably the music used in commercials for scented douches.

One day, my creative writing teacher assigned us to write a poem inspired by our favorite song.

Happy Hump Day. I’d like to present you with a poem entitled... "Sail Away". It was written on January 15th, 2000, and, surprisingly, it was written before I ever experienced an orgasm.

My eyes open to a palace of perfection,
When the Earth is just awakening.
When the winds say, "Welcome home,"
And softly caress my body.

I start to join the motion of nature,
By gently gliding on the soft waves of the river.
As the mild molecules of water push my finger and my toes,
It gently collides with the land that outlines it's wiggled body.

The breeze spirals and kisses my face.
As we all follow the path to the sun.
The water, the trees, the birds, and myself.
The flower petals accompany the wind as a few of them land on the river's quilt.

My hand touches my face,
Then allows the river to lightly brush my fingertips
*A wave crashes to the land.
[*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was possibly written during the song's key change, accompanied by an intense crescendo.]
And the birds fly away from their trees.

They fly to their palace.
The same way I came.
And as we all skate towards an endless end,
The wind softly whispers with open arms, "Hush. Stay."