Drifting from Lost Hours by Meadownet

Drifting on a silver sea,
Moonlight hums a melody.
Sails hang low, the wheel is bare,
The stars don't ask us where.

We drift, we drift, through dusk and dew,
Through meadow gold and ocean blue.
No map to hold, no need to run—
The path dissolves into the One.

Drifting down a cobbled lane,
Soft with moss and dappled rain.
Souls like whispers pass us by,
With questions in their eye.

We drift, we drift, through grief and cheer,
Through seasons circling year to year.
No bell to toll, no race begun—
We’re ever walking toward the One.

Drifting past the starry fold,
Through silence vast and starlight cold.
No hearth, no hill, no earthly flame—
Just light that has no name.

We drift, we drift, on winds unknown,
Through glowing dusk of worlds alone.
Yet every arc the same is spun—
Each voyage bends toward the One.

Drifting ends where all things start—
A quiet hush within the heart.
No gate, no crown, no final mile—
Just love, and rest, and smile.

So drift, sweet soul, and do not fear—
The end you seek is ever near.
From sea to street to moon and sun,
All drifting ends in peace as One.

• Rock
• chamber pop
• folk
• psychedelic rock
• Cape Girardeau