The body is a dream. It wraps the living light within a tomb that sleeps for ages in the mind. People fear death but life is death. You wake up and you come alive when you die...or burrow deeper.
I think sometimes of the Mole People and how whenever the light troubles the darkness within they bury themselves. I think of awards ceremonies sometimes and how people are dressing for their funerals... “Now, for best actor in a mortal role the award goes to that guy whose name will soon be buried under the dead leaves of passing time.” There are other award ceremonies that take place here but the press doesn’t cover them any more than those same leaves do the recipients.
I think about the long black limousines and the thoughts passing through the minds of the attendees as they hear one version and remember another. I think about the movie within the movie as she walks these hills in a long black veil. I think about Paris Hilton going to sleep one night and waking up in Bangladesh and not understanding why no one knows who she is. I think about how difficult that life is going to be when she can’t convince anyone and all the retrospective Bollywood moments that follow.
I think about the strange and private rooms without doors where certain formerly powerful manipulators of dust and specific associates gather to do their version of “Waiting for Godot” while Virgil and Dante discuss the weather ...and as certain and fixed as these moments are, it is the greatest wonder that seldom a single occupant ever doubted the consequences of their actions. They knew and it didn’t matter.... or they didn’t know and it didn’t matter. All the mea culpas that never occurred or there would have been a lot more people writing “Amazing Grace”. How often do you hear;
“I broke the laws of God and Man and Nature. My life was a vain conceit in which I injured and offended everyone I met. I have dishonored myself, my family and everyone who might have loved me and I will spend every remaining moment seeking to undo the evil which I visited on life. I have no excuse”? You do not hear this.
This destiny which shapes our ends has a force like gravity that holds things in place and you can get a feel for the heart which asked that they be forgiven for they knew not what they did and continue, continue to do it.
“The moving finger, having writ moves on
And not all your piety nor wit
Can lure it back to cancel half a line
And not all your tears wash out a word of it.
And this inverted bowl we call the sky
Whereunder cramped and cooped we live and die
Lift not your hands to it for help for
It... as inadvertently move as you and I.”
The role within the role of the movie within the movie does not allow for meddling with the script.
What an awesome intensity it is to muster the will to be transformed; the strange chemistry of the leaven that somehow comes about in Bethlehem ...the seeming endless stretch of time and event that is required to make a stained glass window of the personality. The pressure of a forced diamond, the irritation in the oyster and the heavy, heavy weight of time... The harsh necessities of need in these disordered rooms composed of personal music... the dreaming body of the flesh that harnessed the imagination in pursuit of appetite. It’s all there to see.
Somewhere, someone is dancing and somewhere weeping is the song that generates the dance and where the dancer is not by mistake garlanded in skulls. It is as clear as clear can be. It is going on in every moment. It is the plot to every tale, the lyrics to every song, the story in every newspaper and the subject of every conversation no matter what words may lead away from the continuous spectacle that is every moment of every day as the limousines are polished and the dough is transported to the darkness in which it is meant to rise. It is going on right now everywhere and it can’t be seen in the plain sight where it hides. This powerful mystery is the permanent guest at the table where the skeletons dine.
Whether at Fort Sumter or Sarajevo it is never about what it is about. The rage and the murders are never about what they are about. Everything is something other than what it is ...so we need the wall... I want to build a wall. I would build it with my own hands
Too smooth to climb... ...Too high to throw over... ...Too strong to tear down... A wall that can be worn away only by Love ...Over a very long, long time ...A wall through Jerusalem ...Cutting off the east... And giving the rest to the Jews... But it will never be enough ...It never is ...They want it all ...And the Palestinians ...And the howling mob want it all ...And they want the Jews dispersed and dead ...As well ...In effect .../So we must have a wall ...Because Peace cannot come without Harmony ...And Harmony cannot come without Love ...And Love cannot come without self-forgetting ...And the Self that is not- cannot stop ...Reminding itself that it exists
Having it all is useless ...Without being able to share ...Like a child (and these are children) ...Alone in a room full of toys ...Home alone with the ball ..."Those whom the God's would destroy,..."
Physical Jerusalem ...is not Spiritual Jerusalem ...Herein lies the problem ...False advertising as slick ...as a bead of water on a perfect ass ...Not getting what you thought you got ...Will only make you mean ....A handful of dust ...A bad dream...
So we need a wall ...To divide a lie in half ...Let them build ovens in the wall
To bake their bread ...Since Bethlehem is the House of Bread...Or many niches to intern their dead ...Let them be separate and apart ...As they are already in their heart
We need a wall ...To be in the space ...Where the wall already is ..."Good fences make good neighbors" ...That is the sum of it
Every religion and faith ...That claims to be the one ...Is from that moment wrong
Because ONE is ALL ...There is nothing outside of ONE
ONE IS... all encompassing and..... ONE alone ...ONE is ONE ...Not two
In reality there is no me nor you ...No Arab, no Jew...These are just appearances
God inhabits no land in exclusion ...No synagogue ...No mosque
These are only projections of the vanity of man ...Anthropomorphic Disneyland
God did not give the Kabala ...For you to reverse it and enhance personal gain
The Koran is not a license ...To plunder and maim ...God is Love ...A spiral
Like the curl in a closed fist ...Unseen in the dust dervish ...That which is in a cloud
You cannot explain ...You cannot interpret
So we need a wall ...I will gladly abandon my dreams to build it ...Let it stand as a message to everyone ...Then call out to your God ...In the shadow of it ...Separate from yourself ...As you have always been ...Now you can pray and dance, scream and laugh and cry ...Or walk all the way around the Earth ...To the other side of it
Time enough to think
Let the wall stand as evidence ...That although we are ...We cannot be ...ONE
Let the wall stand as endless testimony ...That we have missed the point ...Let it stand
As the manifest symbol ...Of that barrier we cannot pass ...Let it stand as long
As the honeyed light pours from the Sun
Until the real Jerusalem shall rise
And then the wall is gone.
'No Tracks' is track no. 7 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)