|
|
|
|
|
|
|
the preacher's son has spoken. let those who listen disagree, let them open, let them
close. for there are more wonders than this single mind produces.
|
as i drink from the
water so let your
soul ride the winds
soaring to the east
the west, the south the north. and in this night of darkness lay a
|
as the day grinds we all return. gasping for a breath of relief, an extension to our
senses. a place we feel safe, where we can live and receive life.
|
} CAVE {
|
|
|
} SPEACH {
|
wandering youth but recently formed of clay.
|
receding into individuality we fake our social conscience. we exhale, we speak. we see
the 'others'. we claim membership and we commune and we reverse time.
|
|
his eyes shine brightly with the significance of life. bristling with joy, bubbling with ferocity. pulling you through into the stream of vitality. |
} SUSTAIN {
|
there are few times when we can sit, speak, listen. the dark recedes, we
inhale and polish the glass bead. mammon awaits and so we grind the slave bells for our
upkeep.
|
|
} OTHERS {
|