Good apresnoon, classh! Rise unto attention, for we are about to commence our dismemberment of the incomparable "Anywhere Is" -- indeed, a poem that challenges us to the very core of our primal existence, as Roma navigates around the cosmos in search of the answer to it all: a Grand Unitying Theory! Let us begin this somewhat lengthy existential masterpiece with the first four verses:

I walk the maze of moments

but everywhere I turn to

begins a new beginning

but never finds a finish

Now, the first image that hits us in the face is that of a MAZE! Someone, the persona of the poem - who may or may not be Roma - is meandering through a maze! "I" – note the first person - walk the maze. Now, what do we know about mazes? No, Master Card, we are not talking about corn.

In ancient Geek myth, there was a notorious maze that contained a fearsome beast called the MINOTAUR! Now, classh, this beast was half man and half bull - no, Miss Rhine, do not ask which half was which. The Minotaur was dangerous, and so the king of the land enclosed it in a maze that was so difficult to traverse that many died in the attempt. So, our persona may be in great trouble, walking lost in a maze, but – hark! - it is a maze of MOMENTS! Roma is here using medaphlorical language to indicate her belief in the cosmic temporality of mazes, and of human beings too. We all walk the maze of moments, for at each moment we are indeed amazed!

But, our poetic persona finds that everywhere she/he/it turns to there begins a new beginning. Yes, studnuts, life is a journey of Beginnings: we begin our lives, and then we begin the beguine, but never find a finish; ah, the ultimate irony of life pokes us in the eye here! We begin to begin, and in our beginnings we seek respite in a finish but may only find a Swede or a Dane. Is Roma thus alluding, in her clever manner, to the possibility of immortality -- especially if one lives in Scandinavia, which is so well known for the longevity of its flash-frozen inhabitants?

So, in these first four verses, so pregnant with mystical meaning, Roma begins our amazing journey through life itself, or what Sister First Declina calls "vita ipsa.” So be prepared now, classh, to continue on our exciting journey with the next verses:

I walk to the horizon

and there I find another

it all seems so surprising

and then I find that I know

Four gripping verses, but what indeed has gripped us here? Firstly, the persona of our poem, er, of Roma’s poem - she's very concerned with coffeerights, you know - has changed locations: abruptly gone is the maze of moments, perhaps swept away by global swarming, to be replaced by the horizon! Now, what does this really mean?

Well, I shall venture the opinion that our persona has become disorientated walking through the maze of moments, and, when one becomes spacially challenged, one is always advised to find the HORIZON! Why, once I was on a terrible boat that bounced up and down, up and down, up and down, and I felt rather, well, you know - and then I found the horizon, and that, along with ample doses of Pepto-Brennan ™, fixed me right up, but I digress….

So, in order to regain her/his/its sense of direction, our persona walks to the horizon, and isn't that much better than taking a car and adding more pollution into our environment? Yes, Miss Tuned, of course it is.

But, significantly for our persona, he/she/it finds another! But, another what? Yes, THAT is the question! Another horizon? No, there is only one horizon on the horizon, so how about another spacially challenged person? Yes, our pilgrim has left the maze of moments and gone to the horizon where another persona awaits him/her/it - a menage a deux, as Sister Francophonie would exclaim, with accent marks!

And yet, this all seems so surprising! Why, we ask? Because, Master Piece, our persona really wanted to be left alone! It walked to the horizon seeking blissful solitude, only to be devastated to find that the horizon is already occupied. What a grim surprise - even the horizon will offer our soul-weary wanderer no respite from the madding crowd - a metaphor, classh, for the insanity that fills our planet with billions and billions and billions of human beings. Ah, Roma is flying high here!

“And then I find that I know”: aha, a pre-climatic climax! Suddenly, awareness alights upon the head of our forlorn pilgrim - the persona now KNOWS something, hopefully something important or useful, but, what is it? Roma blatantly refuses to tell us at this time - so like her, isn't it? She will force us to try again and again, by moving us along!

Hencely, we come to a refrain that Roma will use again -- well, that is what a refrain is, isn't it, Miss Spoken? What, you wish to refrain from answering any questions today? And no, you may not go to the washroom for four hours.

Well, undigressing, when we left our poetic persona, he/she/it was saying: "and then I find that I know.” Now, what is it that this figure knows, we are all now asking of Roma? So, what does Roma say? Here it is - read and ponder the elegantly transcendent luminescence of her words:

You go there you're gone forever

I go there I'll lose my way

if we stay here we're not together

Anywhere is

Well, no wonder I drank a great amount of Pepto-Brennan ™ over the weekend! What a maze of words we have here! Yes, a MAZE – Master Craft, do you remember seeing a maze in this poem earlier on? Good for you: yes, the maze of moments - so glad you are awake now.

These four lines recapitulate and reinforce the metaphysical semaphore of the maze: You go there, I go there, we're not together, etc. We thus have two people lost in the maze of moments, and what should they do, asks Roma beguilingly? If you go there, you are lost FOREVER - my, that sounds awfully final. If I go there, I lose my way – a common problem in a maze, of course. BUT, note the following, crucial thought: if we stay here we’re not together! What a tragic choice: there or here? Being lost in a mazing grace, or being apart? Such a poignant semaphore for life itself: you go there, I go there, and yet where are we in the end? Lost? But if we stay here, are we even together? Apparently not.

Then comes the most mysterious phrase of all: “Anywhere is.” Anywhere is WHAT? This is not even a complete sentence, Miss Understood – but another pregnant pinafore, for our lives are not complete until they are complete. Once they are complete, well, then we may know where Anywhere IS!

Well, to resume our vivisection of “Anywhere Is” after having narrowly survived the refrain on the bridge, we shall now have to preponderate upon the next four verses:

The moon upon the ocean

is swept around in motion

but without ever knowing

the reason for its flowing

Goodness, Great Roma, what have we here? The literary device of "el chango el imago", that's what! From the maze of moments we turn to the moon upon the ocean. Now, is the moon ever upon the ocean, Master Fisher? Only in your dreams, you say - how very interesting; please see Sister Sigmunda after classh. Well, the moon only APPEARS to be upon the ocean when we watch it set over the sea. So our dear Roma is referring here to an "optical delusion" - it's not like the moon is actually going into the ocean – that would extinguish it! Or would it? …..I shall ask Brother Sky later.

We also learn that our moon is being swept around in motion – well, of course it is: it's “upon” the ocean, and motion is in the ocean, for the ocean has the peculiar property of moving, always moving, up and down, up and down, up and down - oh dear, excuse me, I think I need some Pepto-Brennan ™!

[Sister exits, then shortly returns]

Ah, that's much better. Now, we have our moon being swept around in motion upon the ocean, and I would think that the moon is getting a wee bit dizzy at this point. And is it ever confused:

“but without ever knowing

the reason for its flowing”

So, classh, our moon is apparently ignorant: it does not know the reason! Now, once again, Roma alludes here to our state of mind as we live our sad little lives: we do not know the reasons - we are mooning, er, we are like the moon in our state of not knowing. And please note, studnuts, that Roma specifically alludes to the FLOWING of the moon - that is very poignant, isn't it? Have you ever seen a flowing moon? Well, Roma has, perhaps when she has been taking too much Pepto-Brennan! A flowing moon – now, will the moon be flowing into something, will it be changed by that experience, will it learn a lesson? Will it experience a moment of revelation that will cause it to turn blue? And, whatever happened to the maze of moments - perhaps the moon, according to Roma, is entering a new maze?

Well, onwards we go, fleeing flying footwear. In our introspection of “Anywhere Is,” we now shall exhume the next four verses:

in motion on the ocean

the moon still keeps on moving

the waves still keep on waving
and I still keep on going

You know, it's odd that the word "still" appears here not once, not twice, but THRICE, given that these lines convey perpetual movement. Motion vs. Stillness - what a Roma-nesque juxtaposition, is it not, Miss Rhine? Oh, so sorry to have interrupted your BlueBerrying.

Now, in the first line, we find our itinerant moon still in close contact with the ocean. But, since we do not think that the moon is really and truly floating on or in the ocean, Roma is either scientifically-challenged, OR, I suggest, she is really alluding to the reflection of the moon upon the water! The reflection moves with the movement of the water, hence the next line tells us clearly, in case we were asleep like Master Card, that the moon still keeps on moving; that is good, otherwise it would crash with a mighty roar into the Earth and we would all be annihilated without even a moment's notice to pick up our cell phones and call our insurance brokers.

So, where was I? Yes, Miss Fired, in Room 222, how clever of you. Now, look at what Roma gives us next: the waves still keep on waving! How seemingly redundant! Waves that are waving -alas, waving in what way, that is the real question - to wave or not to wave? Does Roma here refer to the waves simply in motion (on the ocean) OR are these really very royal waves, you know, the kind that make that cute little waving thingie that Queen Elizabeth II does? Well, I for one have never had a wave wave at me, so I conclude the former as opposed to the latter.

“And I still keep on going”! "I"? My, my, we are back to our pathetic, er, poetic persona of the initial verses! The "I" that walks the maze of moments – remember him/her/it, classh? No, it is not yet time for the bell, Miss Heard. We must now comprehend that "I" - whatever that may be - is in continual motion, just like the waves upon the ocean. But, I dare to inquire, WHERE is "I" going? No, Miss Take, my grammar is feeling fine, thank you.

Now, classh, after "and I still keep on going" we have the REFRAIN entering the song again, like an unwelcome visitor in the dead of night when it is very cold and snowing and all the power is off. How tedious to look at it again, so I shall simply refrain, and we shall commence with the next eight lines. You see, Miss Guided, we must quicken our pace before Doomsday strikes the Earth!

I wonder if the stars sign

the life that is to be mine

and would they let their light shine

enough for me to follow

I look up to the heavens

but night has clouded over

no spark of constellation

no Vela no Orion

Aha! The "I" is still with us, that I that kept on going at the end of the previous stanza (before the refrain, of course). "I" is still going, but where? That is indeed the crux of the matter: where are we ALL going? Yes, Master Piece? No, there will not be a field trip to Wal-Mart today.

"I" is going, but has lost his/her/its way, like a poor little lamb. So, when in doubt, it turns to the STARS. No, Miss Understood, I do not refer to Madonna or Celine. Our lost little lamb will indulge in the ancient craft of ASTROLOGY! Will the stars clue our poetic persona in, will they tell her/him/it/whatever "the life that is to be mine"? Of course not - they may sign the life of our persona but not my life, that is, after all, my own beeswax...Let our persona get its own vital life signs!

Now, the persona wants the stars to shed enough light for her/him/it/whatever to follow - you see, having no Energizer Bunny around, our persona needs the light from the stars to find the way. One hopes that there are no clouds in the sky, that this is indeed a rare night without rain.

BUT, BUT, BUT, classh, the night HAS clouded over! Oh dear, hopes are dashed cruelly by our Roma, who has at this point caused the sky to cloud over just to spite her own creation! And thusly, there is NO light - no constellation can be seen! Mister Woof, can you name a constellation? No, Sirius the Dog is not a constellation -it is, rather, the brightest star in the constellation we call Canis Major, or Great Big Doggie! You see, all you have to do is look at the next line for illumination to kling on:

“no Vela no Orion”: -- oh dear, not even reliable old Vela or Orion are there! All the constellations have fled, as if the day of doom had come and they all wanted to fall into a Black Hole and come out the other side! Well, so would I - that is, if I knew the day of doom was upon us, which I do not, because Mother Superioriosa never tells me anything, but I digress.

Coming back to where we used to be, let us recommence our enyalysis of “Anywhere Is” with the next eight verses:

The shells upon the warm sands

have taken from their own lands

the echo of their story

but all I hear are low sounds

as pillow words are weaving

and willow waves are leaving

but should I be believing

that I am only dreaming

Oh my - what a welter-weight of words lie here, prostrate, before us! We must start with "shells" - do you notice how Roma has so cleverly used the famous literary device of "obliteration"? No? Well, let me point out that at the beginning of the song Roma wrote of a MAZE, then in the next stanza (barring the refrain, of course) she took us to the MOON - Maze and Moon both begin with the letter M - isn't that wonderful? Now look at the next stanza: STARS! And what have we here, classh? SHELLS - yes, two "S" nouns - do you see the pattern here, Miss Read? Good!

Now, our obliterative shells are lying on the sands - another “S” word indeed. And these sands are warm, which is good because of late Enya has been walking around barefoot and we wouldn't want her to get cold feet, would we? That was a RHETORICAL question, studnuts, you need not raise your hands. Oh, sorry, Miss Appropriated, yes, you may leave the room for a brief moment in time.

So, shells upon the warm sands have inhaled, from their own lands, the echo of their story! We know that every land has its own story, just as every person has his/her/its own story; our shells are here "personified" in the oblique sense that they carry with them tales of where they came from - which is important because WE want to know where this poem is going to! But, alas, our poetic persona is hard of hearing - maybe from spending far too much time with loud musical instruments. You know, I used to have 20/20 hearing, but then I went to a lot of concerts by a group called Even Louder and I lost many of my registers, but I do not wish to digress.

All our poor persona can hear, classh, are LOW sounds, the lower registers. Often found in the LOWLANDS where some of the warm sands may be from, I dare speculate. Then Roma throws us her infamous willy-nilly: “as pillow words are weaving”! Now what on earth is she getting at here? Yes, Master Full? Yes, I do think that "pillow talk" was indeed an old movie, good point at the top of your head! But Roma says "pillow words" and she must mean something, so we have to consider that these words are weaving, strange as that may sound. Eureka!! In the far out land of Mu, the natives WEAVE their pillows as they sing - so Roma is here, I believe fervently, alluding to this far off land, which has much warm sand.

“And willow waves are leaving”: yes, we already know that waves play a vital role in this poem, but now they are willows waving in the wind. The answer, my classh, is waving in the wind, the answer is waving in the wind! So say goodbye to our friendly willow waves are as they leave. Perhaps they shall end up on the water. Bye now!

Well, our perplexed persona now asks one of the most fundamental questions of personhood: “should I be believing?” Think deeply about that, studnuts: “should I be believing?” Once again, the existentialist mantra of Roma rears its lovely but fuzzy head. But, the next line makes us pause: “that I am only dreaming”! Is life, asks Roma, but a DREAM? Are there no MAZES, no MOONS, no STARS, no SHELLS? Is our life just a dream, just a dream? Oh my, it makes me gasp for breath to contemplate what Roma is getting at here: life as insubstantial, life as meaningless, life as a dream. Oh, overcome as I am by emoticons, I must breathe very deeply now and clam my excitement!

Now, classh, we are going to finish off “Anywhere Is,” simply to put it out of this agony. Thus we are jumping over the refrain to reach the final stanza, which suddenly erupts in our faces - my, my, Roma must have been smoking at this point!

To leave the thread of all time

and let it make a dark line

in hopes that I can still find

the way back to the moment

Our lost, confused, and probably brain dead poetic persona now wishes to leave TIME itself, only time itself! To step out, as it were, of linear dimensions and drift, as it were, into spherical dimensions. BUT, all is not what it seems - as is frequently the case in this mystifying poem -- for our persona hopes that time, with its mighty thread, will somehow make a dark line that will LEAD her/him/it back to the moment!

The MOMENT! Now, where has this metaphor already appeared? Yes, Miss de Clare? Absolutely right - will wonders never cease - at the very beginning of the poem, wherein Roma wrote so eloquently of the maze of moments! So, our persona is actually going backwards, reflecting the spherical nature of elemental time. Alas, will he/she/it make it back in time?

I took the turn and turned to

begin a new beginning

still looking for the answer

I cannot find the finish

Oh dear, how lost, how sad, how totally out to lunch is our wandering persona. Our friend in the poem has taken a turn, in the quest for a new beginning. We ALL seek new beginnings, don't we, classh? Of course we do! When something ends we begin anew - such is the medicphysical nature of existence. But note that our wanderer is looking for THE answer! Not an answer - no no - but THE answer! For there is but one answer to all of our questions about the cosmos, and that is: 42. Please write that down, classh, it may be on the final exam.

But there is, alas, no finish! Or, if there is one, he/she/it is too confused to find it, a feeling I myself know all too well. In growing desperation, our wanderer continues:

it's either this or that way

it's one way or the other

it should be one direction

it could be on reflection

Well, duh! Of course it's this way or that way - where else is he/she/it to go? How many choices do we have within our current dimensional space? But, isn’t this the point that Roma is trying so obtusely to make? Namely, that our choices are indeed LIMITED by our own humanity! How do we really find that ONE direction that we know is right for us? We find it by “reflection" - yes, Roma tells us all to reflect on our meanderings through life, not to go blindly walking into walls!

And so we at last come to:

the turn I have just taken

the turn that I was making

I might be just beginning

I might be near the end

Oh, my, don't we all hope so! I mean, classh, that our persona, pathetically poetic, has CHOSEN to take a turn - that, dear studnuts, is what we call FREE WILL. You see, we all must make choices in our lives; we are not predestined to a given turn but choose our own turns. He/she/it now takes a turn, but to where? Is the persona back to the beginning? Or, is he/she/it - let's just call it "Noodle" -coming to the END? Now, if Noodle has indeed returned to the beginning, then it follows, as night doth the day, that we shall have to reread this lengthy poem yet again, and I do hear so many tummies rumbling right now. So let us all starvingly hope that Noodle IS at the END!

Well, if I may be so bold, I ask you all to reflect on this tonight: Roma has plumbed the depths of medaphysical and super-medaphysical angst in this epic poem of beginnings and endings. We are all travellers on paths that are existentially unknown, and unknowable, until we fall flat on our faces while walking them. Ah, life as the ever complex journey, a journey on which we make many turns, false and true. No wonder that the video for this poem ends with a cloned Enya, walking endlessly up and down stairs - how very appropriate indeed! I'll bet her feet were really sore by then; she probably needed to refresh them by toasting her toes with tiny candles.

In any event, studnuts, I expect your essays on this poem by the end of the week.

Ta!