I saw a raindance long ago around a bonfire's light 
As six young braves danced 'round the flames and tried to
catch the sight
Of rain to soothe their arid land and quench the desert's
thirst;
But no rain was forthcoming nor no clap of thunder burst. 

But now and then that memory comes floating back to me
And, in a way, I think that dance is my analogy.
Because I've raindanced all my life by taking poet's pen
And trying to bring redemption to the tribes of lonely men.


'Cause we all need redemption's rain to wash away the dust
Of all our self-indulgence and the years of our mistrust.
But despite my years of dancing, there's been no sign of
rain.
I still see inhumanity and I see no loss of pain. 

And quiet desperation still exists in most I know
And pieces of their shattered dreams lay at their feet
below.
And each fight their own demons in prisons with no key
And no amount of poet's words can seem to set them free. 

So I guess I've made no difference 'cause I haven't eased
their load;
And it tempts a man to give it up and try another road.
But there's this voice inside of me that tells me that I'm
right.
So I guess I'll keep on dancing and trying to catch the
sight 

Of rain to soothe their arid minds and quench their tired
soul's thirst.
And hope that some hang onto... the words they read here
first.
So if you try to find me and to tell me why you came 
I'm that tired and hopeful poet dancing 'round the fire's
flame. 

Copyright 2001 - Phil Cerasoli