Gerry Morgan’s most fully realized work.
Eight songs at the intersection of Leonard Cohen’s liturgical darkness, Joni Mitchell’s confessional poetry, and the ancient pull of Indian classical instrumentation. Sitar and harmonica. Prairie soul and bhakti devotion. Questions that don’t resolve cleanly — because the real ones never do.
This is not background music.
The Songs
Burn the Map, Beloved Two people coming together, each carrying a map of how the future should look. His map. Her map. Neither one right. To truly meet, they must burn both maps and find a path that didn’t exist before they found each other.
Earth Mother, What Have We Done Everything we have — every breath, every meal, every moment of beauty — comes from the Earth. This song sits with the arrogance that made us forget that. It doesn’t preach. It grieves.
Shores of the River Styx The oldest question. When life is over — what comes next? Written without easy answers, because there aren’t any.
The Watchtower Has No Roof About the particular pain of clinging to a past that the world has quietly moved on from. The watchtower still stands. But it has no roof. It can’t protect you anymore.
Unseen Lover The physical world exists inside your head as much as outside it. Sometimes we can’t tell the difference between what is real and what our inner map says should be real. A love song about perception itself.
Veils We all wear them. Some are cloth. Some are not. This song asks — gently, persistently — what you’re hiding, and why, and whether it’s still serving you.
Hallelujah, The Monsoon Comes A song of pure gratitude. We depend entirely on the cycles of the earth — the rain, the seasons, the returning light. When the monsoon comes, we remember what we are.
The Temple of Resurrection Nothing lost is truly gone. It is all re-purposed. The most hopeful song on the album, and the one that earns that hope.