Journey back to Eden
Into heaven, if you will
Brilliant colors spilled
Across a yellow flower sky
Seemed so much brighter then…
Familiar musings with your pen
Six-stringed daydreams lost and found
Remembering that wall of sound
Once so fine, so new, so true…
Clearly, it remembers you
Waiting patiently in line
Cigarettes and sipping wine
Sweet anticipation clinging
Like wishes on stars
The times are changing, have you heard?
Attica’s on fire, spacemen in the moon
Soldiers fight for God and country
Seems we’re growing up too soon
Dying much the same
But that’s another story
So easily we forget,
Remembering what we want to
Decisions we regret
The show’s about to start
Time constricts, expands, dissolves
On wheels of love we ride
Mystic serpent in a word…freedom
Smokey dreams to feed your head
Mid-July summer’s haze
Filmore East
1971

Stepping through the door
A train with a blues heart…do you hear?
Coming down tracks like veins…twisting
Through battlefields, farms, cities
Once green, now gray granite
Palaces, grand ballrooms, halls, bars
The dead and the living coexist
Do you have your tickets?
Flying down roads, chasing dreams
Always arriving, always escaping
Into sunsets, into music, into crowds
Pretty flowers by the score
The scent floats through the room
Blue wind calling, echoes from the future

Journey into heaven, into mindscapes, into sound
Gathering souls along the way
In gypsy caravans, buses, cars, and motorcycles
Picking up passengers
Listening to voices, hearts as instruments
Melding memories, stories form
Against a backdrop of change
Pumping out a life force
Jazz-infused, rock, and soul
Controlled chaos, hands in the air
Energy expands, time unfolds
A contrast of moments
Like dragons conjure fire
Spinning its tail through
Floodlights and fog
In retrospect, everything seems right
That show blew our minds
Was it the weed, the drugs, the wine?
I remember the sound…
It remembers me.

Journey back to Eden
For memory is a garden
Inside the venue, an audience
of ears and eyes
Auroras born from southern skies
Raining down colors like magic
Freeform minstrels weaving madness
Capturing the moment
Watching…
Center stage, two drummers
Pounding out perfect syncopation
Razor lead guitars, notes pierce, soothe
Tear into the fabric of perception
One cuts and bends
One grinds and slides
Across boundaries of thoughts
Above the space of conformity
Rock becomes something new
Concepts of sound transcend expectations
Thumping bass weaves intricate
Patterns of contrasting pulse
Drawing you into the deep
End of the soul
As the Hammond organ
Calls the faithful to worship
In new ways, feeding hungry souls
They understand the music, instinctively
And finally, that voice
Weathered and wonderful
Raspy and soulful
Piercing through a magnificent
Tapestry of sound
Taking us on a journey
Past, present, and future
Presenting perfection from imperfect people
Time portal captured (improvisation)
Of nights, of lights, of hands held high
Now gone but not forgotten
Buried between the grooves
Of an LP record
Now trapped inside digital madness
Blood drops of eternity
Timeless as the sound
Rising as the south
In the mind of a newborn

TM DiSarro
©2026 TM DiSarro/ MindScapes Publishing

From: EVERY WICKED BIRD

THE ALLMAN BROTHER’S BAND 1971