And In This Moment That Arrives When You Least Expect It ,
The Whiplash Of Memory Meeting The Accident Of Tomorrow ,
When The Strands Of Fate Converge In One Point Of Possibility
And All Manifests As That Being Of Your Becoming...
Do You Listen ?
Do You Hear Yourself Think As You Speak Your Hidden Desire
Drawn Forth From The Closeted Rooms Of Your Consciousness
Seduced By Your Sensual Id Into Your New Identity ,
And Held Fast By The Bondage Of Your Cordings Of Choice ?
What Is This Beast Set Loose Upon The Face Of Existence ,
What Masks Upon The Visage Of Your Essence Do Play ,
What Be The Reason , Or No Reason At All , For This Passage
This Initiatory Revolution As Order To Chaos To Order Again ?
Hearken To Your Mystery , The Unfoldment Of Your Infinite
For It Echoes As Timelines Of The Armchair Traveler ,
Roadworn , And Set Upon , By Unrealized Creations ,
Unfulfilled Passion , And The Rejections Of The Self...
For When Your Librarian Of Records Shall Wander Hallways
Of Your Mind , Shushing The Voices , And Dusting Data ,
What Shall You Claim Is Not Yet Writ , Or Brought Forth
As Word Made Flesh ?
For These Be The Questions As Ripples Beneath Your Surface
These Be The Waves Of Your Future Past Come To Call
And In Your Rebirth , Eternal And Ecstatic , Enveloped
And Released , Cocooned And Given Wing , There Be All Your
Discovery And Experience And Essential Nature...
And I Ask You...Do You Listen ?
Do You Listen ?
Re: Do You Listen ?
I sit beneath the Tree of Life, and I listen
I look out onto the land and I see
I walk among my fellow Man and ask
And I am still listening
What do I hear?
Do I hear songs of Love?
Do I hear boasts of the proud?
Am I witnessing a concern for life?
Where are the lovers that dance and sing
Even when they are hard at working?
Where are the lovers when they cast their votes
For warmongers and hateful designers of unjust payment to the children of the Earth?
What do you hear, oh Man, when you listen?
What do you reply to the God as you understand?
Or are you simply a naked babe wandering
Over a crop of thorny roses
I look out onto the land and I see
I walk among my fellow Man and ask
And I am still listening
What do I hear?
Do I hear songs of Love?
Do I hear boasts of the proud?
Am I witnessing a concern for life?
Where are the lovers that dance and sing
Even when they are hard at working?
Where are the lovers when they cast their votes
For warmongers and hateful designers of unjust payment to the children of the Earth?
What do you hear, oh Man, when you listen?
What do you reply to the God as you understand?
Or are you simply a naked babe wandering
Over a crop of thorny roses