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Filk: “The Lost Girl Connection”, ttto “The Rainbow Connection” as sung by Kermit the Frog

“He that will not sail until all dangers are over, will never put to sea.”
~Thomas Fuller

Why are there so many songs about pirates
and what gets brought in with the tide?
Pirates are fiction, and only delusions,
and grownups have childhoods to hide.
So I’ve been told and some choose to believe it.
I know there’s more, wait and see.
Someday I’ll find it, the Lost Girl connection.
It’s the LGPA for me.

Who said that wishes will never be granted
when wished on the righthand star?
Someone thought of that and many believed it.
Look what it’s done so far.
What’s so entrancing it keeps us from dancing
in the rain at age thirty three?
Someday I’ll find it, the Lost Girl connection.
It’s the LGPA for me.

All my life under a spell. I know that it’s seems kind of tragic.

I have been half asleep, and I have heard voices.
I’ve heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young at heart?
The voice might be one
and the same.
I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it.
It’s something that I’m supposed to be.
I think that I’ve found it, the Lost Girl connection.
It’s the LGPA for me.

I know that I’ve found it, the Lost Girl connection.
It’s the LGPA for me.

[Edit] It’s appropriate that this is my 42nd post on this blog.

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Poem: Prayer for the Lost and Wandering

Your path and feet have parted ways,
and though none but you may find it,
your chosen methods leave a daze
over those you love who’d mind it.

I have watched you of many days,
your worldview with confusion rife,
unknowing, watched you slip away,
seen what you have done to your life.

I wait in silent simmering
for word from the lady of trees.
Rock bottom dropped from under me
lifting my prayers up to the breeze

that they may be carried to She
Who resides now in summer bright,
that She may grant Her blessings three
to reach you in your deepest night.

Heed them, at your peril ignore
the signs and portents you have made.
You have been placed at Justice’ door
It’s only She can give you aid.

Those who love you do fear for you,
and sadly of you they fear same.
Metaphors cannot help you, true;
it is left to you to take blame.

I plead You, Psychopomp, hear this:
he lies at losing’s very door.
It’s not his time, he’s gone amiss,
must mend those precious things he tore.

I love you like a dear brother,
Gentle, clever, witty, and true.
Your place, ne’er filled by another,
Is now taken by something else.
Not.
You.