The shadows of our ancient mind.

We are dancing puppets.
Moving across the stage.
Never suspicious
of one single line.
Blind to the hands,
the ones that move us,
those makers of time.
Enter the first stage,
then another.
Always in search of happiness.
We all go.
One at a time.
From one room to another
Mother sister father brother.
Hater, fighter dreamer lover.
It easy to live
drama after drama.
For even a puppet,
can think.
About the way to nirvana.
Pinocchio met his father
but don’t ask us.
Were only trained
to drink, to lust,
and swim in our own
superficial dust.
But fear not
for the stage as dark
as it may seem.
All is not lost.
There is a way
of cutting through this dream.
For a jack in a box
jumped out and told us
everything he had seen.
He climbed up the beanstalk
to the forbidden land.
The one where the
Queens and kings
dictate to the magicians hands.
Crazy giants guard,
and like hungry ghosts
eat everything they can.
The mighty ones who rule
over our land.
Clever fools that lie
and always have a grabbing hand.
For the goose that laid
the golden egg.
Should never been known.

Tis was neither Adam or eve,
for they were only a version
of the original man.
We are none other than that,
the aboriginal
rain bowman.
Wash away all the lies
with one hand.
The liars who enslaved us
are always behind.
Just like shadows
in our ancient mind.
eliberocelta dic 2011