1. |
I and Thou
04:19
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here is the change.
here is the story:
like unto history you were made,
and i am another you,
made anew this day.
alive, revived by the sun,
the nine, and the five.
infinity in primes.
this is the story, written each day:
i am another you.
we are one in two.
permutations that express the same.
like so much clay, reshaped and baked,
remolded, born again in flame,
yet still of the same name.
the one, the two.
the name i take is of another you.
and one is one is two is three is five.
and they reflect within themselves
a singular mind which perceives the world
through different sets of eyes.
and this is my name,
written in fire and clay,
encoded in my dna, and flown on the wings of birds.
i pray my words may reincarnate in the son:
do not look back
at those whom you had.
the ones that you have
are those you will have.
the ones whom you lost you will have again.
and the one you will always have is another you.
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2. |
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embedded in reality,
chimaeras and fantasies,
my shadow.
reflecting me.
the myriad remains concealed,
a figure eight split at its seal.
i marched into the sea, singing:
"my mate had perfected me."
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3. |
Groundhog Day
02:57
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this cancerous demon, my own indiscretion,
sequestered inside like a poison to fester
and weather my will, to stunt my progression.
this pestering, blasphemous, blackening shadow,
replicating each day. recycling rage.
endlessly bound to betraying my love,
and replaying the same.
dragging the weight of the wages of sin
and a debt that i can never repay.
so i must be alone.
to reflect, to atone.
i selfishly preyed on the one who adored me
and tethered her into my chain of decay,
and then sent her away. building an altar of pain.
estranging the one who i cherished.
i unfairly ensnared her in rage,
burning, throwing away all the trust that she gave me.
the love she exerted, gifts i subverted and severed.
begged her to stay until i'm covered in dirt.
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4. |
Six to Nine
03:41
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(instrumental)
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5. |
Center of the Mandala
05:18
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pontificate tradition, the soul of conviction,
left the people in a preconditioned cloud of cognition.
and bound to the notion of themselves,
and their trendless fluctuations.
the culture with no foundations,
here the anticipating anchor of the new eon drops.
where connected, indivisible,
and synched to the rhythm as we fathom our role.
celebrate the patterned richness of our soul,
embedded at the crux of the mystery,
cohesive. in flux. the sleeper will awaken
to absolve the forsaken of their toxic ideology.
here, nature's guilty children,
loved all the same.
we return back to god.
to the place where we came from.
all things are new and imbued with apotheosis, gnosis,
exhuberant expanse of the mind.
like a shaman in the throes of a trance;
the dance is creation and our history an ordination:
deputized to chronicle the story of the world,
unfurled like a banner over time,
to speak of the primacy of life.
the structure of the other is rebirth.
and our mother is the earth,
and our nature self-reflecting.
the truth of our symbiotic myths will dissolve,
where connected, indivisible,
and synched to the rhythm of the drum,
we become the implicit complication of occurrence,
with nature at the center of the mandala.
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6. |
Amalgamut
03:42
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the hive had cried for a sign,
and sifting through the mire of their minds,
they applied to divining what their sire designed,
why their eyes should climb to the heights of the sky,
the spire, the shrine.
they consigned their lives to deny the side that defies the divine.
they deride their kind.
and the stars are their eyes, but their eyes are blind,
and resigned to a lie that maligns the light.
and the pyres ignite, and the chimes combine,
and the choir replies with the rhyme they recite,
and the friar presides in his finest attire,
and reviles the crimes of the noncompliant.
he incites and misguides with a smile.
he cheapens and rewrites the rite the divine had implied.
and the aisles, confined to abide the defilement,
will dry in slime, and the swine will fight.
and the tide will rise to a height, incited,
sweeping miles to the sides.
and assigned to its width and its size,
it arrives for a while, then declines.
it collides and subsides.
the glide of the sine is our life.
may we defy our vice and be guided to the light.
may we ride awhile, like a bride to the sky.
and lay the knife aside. may our lives ellide,
and delight in the triumph of the eye's design.
may we survive, supplied with the things we require.
may our lives be sublime.
may we thrive, inviting the divine to reside inside us,
from the base of our spines to our eyes,
may we find our kind and revitalize our ties to the spiral,
and the lines of our lives that the lies divided,
that our minds may align,
intertwined tonight.
may we smile, may we love.
may the eye look after us tonight.
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