Homeward Bound

The Leftovers: “I Live Here Now” (Season 2 : Episode 10
Kevin Garvey (Justin Theroux) “Homeward Bound”
Song: Homeward Bound
Lyrics: Simon & Garfunkel 

I'm sitting in the railway station
Got a ticket to my destination
On a tour of one-night stands 
my suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned 
for a poet and a one-man band

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home where my thought's escaping
Home where my music's playing
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

Every day's an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines
And each town looks the same to me, 
the movies and the factories
And every stranger's face I see
reminds me that I long to be

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home where my thought's escaping
Home where my music's playing
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

Tonight I'll sing my songs again
I'll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me 
in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony 
I need someone to comfort me

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home where my thought's escaping
Home where my music's playing
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me
Silently for me

Lost in Time

Blade Runner, 1982
Track from: Blade Runner (Soundtrack) by Vangelis
"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe... 
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion... 
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. 

All those 
     moments will be lost in time, 
like tears in rain..".

“Clair de lune” (Moonlight)

Suite bergamasque, Third movement by Claude Debussy

Clair de lune (French Poem)
by: Paul Verlaine

Votre âme est un paysage choisi
Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques
Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi
Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.

Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur
L'amour vainqueur et la vie opportune
Ils n'ont pas l'air de croire à leur bonheur
Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,

Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,
Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres
Et sangloter d'extase les jets d'eau,
Les grands jets d'eau sveltes parmi les marbres
Translated by: Gibran

Your soul, a landscape of choice made
Where charming masquerading dancers parade,
Playing the lute as they promenade ecstatic,
Sad beneath disguises fantastic.

While singing a minor key tune
Of vanquishing love and a life opportune,
They are incredulous of their own boon,
As their song blends with light of the moon.

From that light of the moon, happiness flees,
While the birds sleep dreaming in the trees,
It bathes sobbing fountains inconsolable,
While svelte water streams among statues of marble.

The Razor’s Age (Path of Love)

Dhamma wheel

Into to song “Path of Love” by Atman off of album “Nirvana Lounge,” sampling movie “The Razor”s Edge”

Katha Upanisad: The Method of Yoga

12. The Self, though hidden in all beings, does not shine forth but can be seen by those subtle seers, through their sharp and subtle intellect. 

13. The wise should restrain speech in mind; one should restrain the latter in understanding self. The understanding one should restrain in the great self. That a person should restrain in the tranquil self. 

14. Arise, awake, having attained thy boons, understand them. Sharp as the edge of a razor and hard to cross, difficult to tread is that path sages declare. 

15. (The self) without sound, without touch and without form, un-decaying, is likewise, without taste, eternal, without smell, without beginning, without end, beyond the great, abiding, by discerning that, one is freed from the face of death. 

16.  This ancient story of Naciketas told by Death (Yama), telling and hearing it, a wise man grows great in the world of Brahmā. 

17. Whoso shall cause to be recited this supreme secret before an assembly of Brāhamanas or devoutly at the time of the ceremonies for the dead, this will prepare (for him) everlasting life, this will prepare everlasting life.   
“Path of Love” by Atman off of album “Nirvana Lounge”

Trinity

From: Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness by John Donne

“I joy, that in these straits I see my west; 
For, though their currents yield return to none, 
What shall my west hurt me? As west and east 
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, So death doth touch the resurrection.”

Blue Creek

I have no identity
But what you would have of me. 
A friend I would be, 
Or son, brother or father, 
To your mother, sister, daughter. 
But If you ask me,
Nothing here to see. 

Guitar on the knee,
Twangy variations of Bluesy E
With a found blue A.T.C. 
Somewhere south of Tennessee.
Where the Creek would  roam,
When they were free,
Before losing their homes and way
For the sake of foreign liberty.