Seeing and Believing

A world of insomniacs have deadened the muse
The idol of the marketplace fixes us in its unholy worship
The silence of spirit covers the landscape
Devastated, we can only look through carnal eyes
The eyes of spirit lost focus long ago
What happened to the invisible - the inaudible
Another world within our own?
To this wondrous testament of seeing and believing?
To dream is to sleep
To sleep is to dream
And when we dream we embrace the specters of imagination
We hold court and love
Intercourse with the unimaginable
We feel the erotic cascade, the sensation most dear
And then we believe.
Ceremony and representation, yet so much more
We thinking animals think in metaphors
Our greatest gift
To designate something so fundamental, so basic
A rhyme, an opposition - a reality beyond
There is sex with your violence
A horror indifferent to life
It will hover above the abyss, annul all meaning
Come raining down with fire to transform those who dare believe
The fire that begins with the senses and returns to free them
No pleasure without pain
No crime, no art, no pain, no joy
Imagination prefigures all
But you must believe and you must sing
For the most sacred ceremony.
It is center and pivot like a mad, rambling god
Dispensing epiphanies, perversions, and conclusions from its dark pool
A maelstrom of passions quite often unknowable
It is plural, ever expanding with no geometric logics
Borrowing from location and setting
Society and history - the individual temperament
Opportunity begets chance and the capture of a moment
Ignore the classes and hierarchies to stir the imagination
Be the lightning rod for that primordial power
That drives to new addictions, false passions, and slavery
Will yourself to sleep, to dream some more
To free your heart, your intellect and mind
For to dream is to see with live eyes
To believe again.