An early spring morn, yet not quite awake,
I heard a young choir so pure, yet opaque.
A drift before sentient, a dissonant state,
Unconscious, yet conscious, a halfway debate.

They sang of a girl, an exotic strange name.
The title was clear, t’was Blueberry Jane.
Now who in this world would give such a name?
And label a child, this Blueberry Jane?

I awakened alert, the ballad dispersed,
No lovely young choir, no song well-rehearsed.
This place I was in, what state was my brain?
Where choirs sing songs like Blueberry Jane?

A superconscious place, a long sounding name.
A life force universal, a cosmic mind game.
Its source is the place where ideas inspire,
And life force and energy are there to enquire.

So, now before dawn I remember each day,
The song by the choir and the beautiful name.
For I dare not forget how I felt on that day,
When I heard the sweet song and my Blueberry Jane.