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The Boundless Scape, the Clandestine Sea
by Dave Matthews

 
Mine eyes behold voluminous green,
A sea unbound beneath the fog.
The clarinetist high on Congolese jazz
Sets slender fingers free on silver keys,
Blue smoke curled from a piece of glass,
A grandeur solitary in its compass
Of frescoed terraces and tiled roofs,
Where a Buddha-faced woman
Works through the t’ai chi form,
Her sword melting in the moonlight.

The boundless scape, the clandestine sea,
The tenderness of your tiny hand.

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