Picture
a stairway spiralling upwards,
Lifting towards the sky, the end out of sight.
Imagine yourself approaching it, beginning to climb.
You follow the spiral, up and round.
As you walk, aspects of yourself are passed,
One by one they disappear into the distance until what is left is shallow,
incomplete.
You feel yourself evaporating, fading.
You know which parts are missing,
But not where they have gone.
The sky is open to you.
Taking the opportunity you reach out,
You pull yourself up,
And gaze upon an ocean of multitudes:
Works
of art in great profusion,
Bodies marred, grotesque contusion.
Numbers with no end in sight,
Appalling deaths, horrific plight.
Ecstatic screams without a sound,
The drip of blood upon the ground.
The burning of a thousand fires,
The heat of passion, love, desires.
Bodies marred, grotesque contusion.
Numbers with no end in sight,
Appalling deaths, horrific plight.
Ecstatic screams without a sound,
The drip of blood upon the ground.
The burning of a thousand fires,
The heat of passion, love, desires.
A
distant brightly shining star
Beckons to you from afar.
You run towards it asking why
You find yourself up in the sky.
It answers not, you do not care,
No troubles have you floating there.
Your mind set free, no thoughts confined,
All worries are soon left behind.
Beckons to you from afar.
You run towards it asking why
You find yourself up in the sky.
It answers not, you do not care,
No troubles have you floating there.
Your mind set free, no thoughts confined,
All worries are soon left behind.
Why
is it we think so much,
Flinching away from death's cool touch?
That bitter, twisted, evil thought
Is what experience has taught.
We hide and bow our heads with shame,
Not dare to realize the game
In which we grudgingly partake.
The secret's out, it's all a fake.
Flinching away from death's cool touch?
That bitter, twisted, evil thought
Is what experience has taught.
We hide and bow our heads with shame,
Not dare to realize the game
In which we grudgingly partake.
The secret's out, it's all a fake.
Forgeries
of mind and soul
Divert us from the real goal.
It's time we opened up our eyes,
Saw through the foliage of lies.
We must escape our own confinement,
Shrug off our bonds and all entwinement,
Prove to all we're truly free
And everything we strive to be.
Divert us from the real goal.
It's time we opened up our eyes,
Saw through the foliage of lies.
We must escape our own confinement,
Shrug off our bonds and all entwinement,
Prove to all we're truly free
And everything we strive to be.
Lifting towards the sky.
Imagine yourself approaching it, beginning to climb.
You follow the spiral, up and round.
The pinnacle remains out of sight.