We spend most of our time and energy in a kind of horizontal thinking. We move along the surface of things . . . [but] there are times when we stop. We sit still. We lose ourselves in a pile of leaves or its memory. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper.
- James Carroll, novelist
(found in Ophrah magazine)
Feast Day of St. Genevieve, Patron Saint of Paris, born circa 419-died 512 A.D.
Winter Song (video) by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson with Lyrics
Lyrics are below:
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
It rolls in from the sea
My voice; a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
To carry you to me.
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love
They say that things just cannot grow
Beneath the winter snow,
Or so i have been told.
They say were buried far,
Just like a distant star
I simply cannot hold.
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,
Cause youre not where you belong;
Inside my arms.
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
I still believe in summer days.
The seasons always change
And life will find a way.
Ill be your harvester of light
And send it out tonight
So we can start again.
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,
Cause youre not where you belong;
Inside my arms.
This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon
It rolls in from the sea.
My love a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light
To carry you to me.
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?
