The Master must be a Servant |
What can the meaning and purpose of life be?
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I dance.
You dance.
The tears are shed,
blood is spilled,
laughter echoes
across the stage
of space and time.
After each dance
we take a bow.
A lifetime spent.
We begin again.
It’s the same play:
birth,
life,
death.
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A versatile troupe
of carbon based life,
the death and resurrection show.
Again, again, again…
the curtain rises,
the curtain falls,
take a bow.
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What can the meaning and purpose of life be?
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We do it all,
play out all the infinite possibilities.
A flash of light.
A play of shadows
in the Anxiety Dream Theater.
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I dance.
You dance.
It happens
spasmodically, whether we want it or not, the show goes on…
and on….
and on….
We get danced whether we
like it or
not.
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Like a satanic record,
is there something riding
in the spasmodic current of
life?
Is there a voyaging eye?
Is there a voyaging I?
Is something stirring
in the Anxiety Dream Theater?
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It is not the play itself.
The human play is a carrier current.
I dance.
You
dance.
But who carries who?
The master or the servant?
The show must go on.
A flash of light.
A shadow.
The dance ensues.
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Smoke and mirrors,
smoke and mirrors.
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