Song of Illusion
Ear surrender to the music of the mind, as an untamed melody unfolds.
It is the air of wild embodiment that whispers to the soul.
No eyes to see, nor heart to feel yet the song of illusion cries.
Transcending back, oh feet dance mad to the tune of time’s disguise.
Grim hands bent taut pluck instrument strings, smile of ivory accord.
Mute spirits rest in bottles heed the strum of each new chord.
Stone chorus perched on trunk sing rash, celebration of buoyant rage.
Wicked manner devoid of defenses steps bold onto journey’s stage.
An artist of clay, an audience of essence, symbols of vast devotion.
Neither earth nor all her indifferences shall suppress unguarded emotion.
When moment passes and silence returns, brittle bones will take a seat.
A tale amidst old wine and dust, life’s work is now complete.
http://www.swartzentruber.com/13-arts-humanities-liberal-arts.htm
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