We have not changed
so much from days of old.
Our opinions are our gods
and we follow them religiously.
They are alive and we worship them,
bow down before them with our lives.
We live in gossamer prisons
of the wispings of our minds.
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Well, I don't necessarily love it, but it is the truth, with one exception, the cages of our prisons are not gossamer, but are filled with very real, cold steel, or may just as well be for their effect.
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In answer, not in mime
may these words fall softly
on an old man's ears, and
carry with them no sting
that truth and different views
often bring.
Faith have I that his years,
and art, and knowing, give
sedation in the form
of growing and acceptance.
Nevertheless, something
there also is that lusts
a wall: a sickness long
born by fear, it slowly
sets; hardens; as cold as
dry mortar, as faceless
as cement.
Its forms exist not just
between us but around
us, and from this side,
not seen by him, from our
four cornered rooms, felt by
him, come the rhythmic strains
of plastic pick-axes,
grinding out the blows.
That God is a bulldozer,
Faith have I, as he.
- P. Martin
Summer 1973
Stan would like to offer a paraphrase of the first entry in the Tao Te Ching:
ReplyDeleteThe God that can be told
is not the eternal God.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
The unnamable is eternally real.
Naming is the origin
of all particular things.
Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.
Yet mystery and manifestations
arise from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness within darkness.
The gateway to all understanding.
These prison walls are ominously yet invisably present. We see them not because we are encased in a delusional perception of freedom and autonomy of separateness.
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