Magma Opal

The first act is to set the scene
Painting the screen the right shade of green
Now picture a priestess fleeing from Truth
Trembling with the future and clinging to youth
The vice of her virtue, under that wild glare
Not one illusion would the visions spare
Drawing roots and becoming one with the Earth
Unchanged through ages of death and rebirth

Victory is crowned with her leaves
A fleeting trinket of what the champion achieves
Shades of Daphne on each BS degree
Certificates of higher earning
But tell me now, children, is anyone learning?
We’re going through the motions and inhaling the fumes
Of dark dank abandoned dusty rooms
Stumbling like a pirate dragging a peg
When we all know a tripod best have three legs

Inside the mirror of meaning
Every answer has a twin
But is your mind open wide enough
To let the Universe in?
Maybe the vision’s real
Or just a trick of the snake
Maybe you’re only dreaming
That you’re actually awake
Ain’t no laurels to rest on
Just a tale to shake
All there is is a point of you
A drop in an infinite lake

A tree, see, doesn’t have anywhere to be
By a brook, in a book, it’s all the same to me
Won’t you meet my sweet friend Subtlety?
Wrapped in gossamer analogies
No allegiance to the passing or forthcoming age
No windmills to tilt at or wars to wage
Novelty and Nostalgia made from the same the page

It’s a spot of terrain we guard in our brains
In a narrow passage riddled with chains
Missing the metaphor for the story
Hunkered down in private Purgatories
The Devil’s in the dissonance
Three-headed hounds barking ignorance
None of it makes any difference
Empty the ocean, pail by pail
Vanity and verity don’t weigh the same on the scale

Inside the mirror of meaning
Every answer has a twin
But is your mind open wide enough
To let the Universe in?
Maybe the vision’s real
Or just a trick of the snake
Maybe you’re only dreaming
That you’re actually awake
Maybe it’s transparent
Or utterly opaque
All there is is a point of you
A drop in an infinite lake

Revelation hovers over sacred fissures
Flames which jet up and away toward the future
Igniting souls grown jaded and cold
On outmoded notions some profits once sold
And the Magma burns and preserves
The past as much as it deserves
For the surface is history, plowed and frozen
We live in the world where our choices were chosen
Can’t plan a jailbreak with the mind in a cage
If dharma and drama don’t dance on the same stage

January 10, 2025. Category: Air Lift Underground, Word Jazz.

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