FORK of LIFE

This song was written at Cattle Wash, St. Joseph, on the 28th March 1976 as I walked down the beach, passed Round Rock (see photo) on the East Coast road, and walked back up.

A party was being held at Culdune, for my Uncle's family, Culdune is the house that my grandfather owned, on the East Coast road.

I had picked up a piece of dried wood as I walked, it was, shaped like a fork, the kids in Barbados use it as a Catapult.

In the Fork of Life I am bound, the Fork of Life, I took it from the ground.

As I looked at it, I saw a vision.

Brown sand stretches mile on mile, I'll reach the end in a little while

It was all knurled and twisted and sort of worn from the waves and the sea, it must have come from Africa or some far country.

The Fork of Life I hold it in my hand, the Fork of Life it waits for my command.

The handle swirls through the mists of time, the fork gives me power over all mankind

And as the vision gets stronger, I see a city ahead.

Fork of Life is something NEW, just between me and you, Fork of Life it's ABSOLUTELY TRUE, but only for a select few.

Fork of Life, I cast it down, forgotten it lies broken on the ground.

And so the vision ends. I walk a sad, lonely figure into the Sunset. Hope is lost from view. I cast the bit of dried wood, aside with all the other floatsam, with which the beach is strewn.

And wend my way back to the cottage, even as the light fails.


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© copyright 2000 Stephen E. Mendes, Barbados.