"Two Streams of Time"
lyrics and music by Benjamin Newman

/ Am FGAm FG Am / - F - G / 1st / /

A man walked out on the rolling hills on an evening fine and warm
And he had not gone one league from home when there blew up a sudden storm
And in the storm he lost his way, for the night it had grown so black
'Til the clouds did part and the moon shone cold on the stones of the old, straight track

He followed the track to a tavern's door, 'ere the light of the moon should fail
And they gave him shelter and meat and drink, and they told him a thousand tales
And they set him straight on the way back home, in the ragged and rosy dawn
And the hills were the hills he had always known, but the world that he knew was gone

	/ Am G FG Am / " / Am - F G / 1st /

	There are two streams of time, two directions time may pass
	There's the time when the tale of the world takes place, from the first word to the last
	And the time when the tale of the world is changed, each time it is told again
	But that's not the time that is meant to pass in the lives of mortal men

Next night when he sought for that tavern all by the light of the dwindling moon
What he found was a circle of standing stones, all carved with forgotten runes
And he beat on the stones and he cried out loud, saying: Where can I ever go?
How in the world can I get back home to the world that I used to know?

Then a door opened up in the circle's midst, where there wasn't a door at all
And beyond was the warmth of a blazing hearth and the mirth of a feasting hall
And a lord like a king from the elder days came to him and took his hand
Saying: Come, be our guest for another night, and perhaps you will understand

	There are two streams of time, two directions time may pass...

There were meat and drink as had been before, there were tales, but the tales were strange
For the self-same stories were told once more, but not one was retold unchanged
Then the lord of the house raised up his hand, and silence came o'er the hall
And he said to his guest: Find your answer here, in the tale which contains them all

There are some who say that the world was told once on an ageless night
In the storytellers' circle, gathered round in the dawn-fire's light
And they told it once, and aright and true, and after it all was done
The tellers walked in the world they'd told by the light of the first day's sun

Now, it's true that the world is a tale that's told, but it never was carved in stone
Nor was it ever fixed nor finished, nor told one time alone
But every night it is told again, never once as it was before
And the tellers sit round the dawn-fire still, as they shall for ever more

	There are two streams of time, two directions time may pass...

Now, some of the tellers desired to live in the world and the time they'd spun
And walked out of the ring of the dawn-fire's light in the days when the world was young
But some of them wished that the tale should be revised and retold again
And remained in the time that's beyond the tale, never touched by the time within

But if one chose a life lived within the world, later on he might change his mind
And set out to return to the circle, but the way he could never find
For the way to the place where the dawn-fire burns has been lost since the days of old
Still, a teller might hope to return again to the time when the tale is told

He would build him a hall with a mighty hearth, he would send for his kith and kin
He would gather all those who no longer wished to belong to the time within
If the place of the dawn-fire was lost to them, they would kindle a fire themselves
And if men-of-the-world heard of them at all, they heard legends, and called them elves

	There are two streams of time, two directions time may pass...

So, now you know where your feet have strayed, and can guess at what that may mean
You have stepped from your tale, from your world and time, to a time that lies in between
If it lay in our power to send you home, be assured we would think it well
But the tale of the world out of which you came is not one that is ours to tell

A change in the tale that lies at our door is not a thing we can see undone
For the tales told here are of far-off lands, and of worlds under distant suns
You may yet return to the lands you left, though their tales will be strange, I fear
Or, if you so wish, you may take your place in the circle of story here