SONGS OF MYSTERY
©1991, 1996 and 2000

 

The Joke's On You


Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
           
And I’ll forgive Thy great big one on me.

                                        Robert Frost

 

Introduction

‘Tiz the trauma of birthand of deaththat we pay
For the love of this life, the game we all play.
So-what if it’s all more a ploy than a plan?
For what better place to hide from ‘I AM’

Where we’ve all been the cast in a joke we can’t see,
‘Cause the joke and the joker’s the same entity;
And if you need to see, have it subject to view,
You’re playing the joke and the joke is on you.

For God has eyes of ev’ry size
In shapes and forms unheard;
Sensations all that come about
Contained within a word:

An eye that SEES through eyes that see
Like a window through infinity,
Reflecting back to you and me
Just tokens of philosophy.

 

Like to find out what this joke is about?
What would you give for a look?
A moment of time for rhythm and rhyme?
Check it out ... that’s just what it took!

Imagine this place: like Alice’s place;
A wonderland point of view
Where the best of our thought
Becomes what is naught
Or something we already knew.

A place we can see, reflect and surmise,
Change our duration by changing our size;
A view-point from eyes throughout infinite space
To watch Nature dancing all over the place.

 

J.O.Y. I

 

"Without a contrary, no progress can be".
‘Twas said by the best in his prophecy.
So the garden can grow, so the tree bears its fruit:
Existence/Resistance, the forces dispute.

Two forces with faces that silently hide,
From the noise and the madness, On the Grail’s Holy sides.
One force to grow, the other to slow:
Existence/Resistance ... on with the show!

Here’s Adam and Isaac, a pope and a prince
‘Been thinking ‘bout fruit from that tree.
Both had perceived as ‘the fall’ was achieved.
And from this we all learned to see.

But the truth of it is, they failed in the quiz
As both took his lot from ‘I AM’.
And while they pretended, the apple descended
To fall on us all:  Modern Man.

 

Now, why would some all-encompassing joke
Be played on the children of time?
And who would have thought
The joke would be bought,
Delivered, continued and signed?

With all we’ve achieved–the theories conceived–
How could we miss such a ruse?
The clues that existed were sorely twisted
So we could continue . . . anew!

 

(Aside, a whisper):
It’s all about your size, you see,
The way you use your eyes to see:
With them or through them, which is the best?
How do you pass this subtlety test?

A thing’s particularity
Is the price of its visibility.
So eyes can’t see past clarity
To see their own past history.

‘Cause seeing takes some time, you see,
Regarding something constantly.
But to SEE, well, that is time,
See this image held in mind:

Say you should wake-up tomorrow;
The whole world just doubled its size!
How can you square with perception
When nothing has squared to the eyes?

Then what if this fantasy played itself out,
And the world kept expanding o’er time?
Where would a standard of measurement lie?
How could we walk a straight line?

Sir Isaac’s wing takes three degrees
To move around in space,
But put them together in motion, behold!
Existence-all over the place.

And remember that gent ’round the turn of the cent’
Who rode on a fast moving wave?
Saw the clock on the wall, which had a great fall,
But no change in the image it gave.

Albert’s conclusion has staggered our minds,
And naught do we comprehend,
That in time the clock slows
While the universe grows,
And my now is another mans then.       

 

J.O.Y. II

 

Caught in a whirlwind of thought or despair?
Looking for something to clear-up the air?
Take a drink from the well
Where the fruit left the tree
A web of extension binds all that you see;

Extension, durationborne out of hand,
From the will of a soul to act-out its plan.
But the timeless in time
Pays its due as it sees
Through that window obscuring infinity.

 

(aside):
It’s all about your size, you see,
That independent eyes can’t see;
What’s multiplying constantly
In all directions-boundlessly.

But all those eyes of ev’ry size
Are points that recombine
In that place a modern child
Can never, ever find.

‘Cause he believes just what he sees;.
It’s in his every call
Until he asks, not how, but why?
His ivory towers fall.

The modern child’s “the measurer”;
Degrees of worth as seen
Revolving ‘round a point of view
One full dimension lean.
 

Behold:

An atom was borne at the speed of our light;
Had grown till its size could be squared in our sight!
They thought when it happened: “That couldn’t be right!
That a wave from within could portray our delight.”

All were surprised as this message arrived–
Came in on a fast moving wave.

They all watched it spread!
Until the prince said:
“That price is just too much to pay.”

The Fates had arrived, a refuge decried
At the nexus of what we can see:
Something exists to give it a twist
And lo! It’s just you and me!

 

A cry of uncertainty timely appeared
So we could interpret prelims
Like a fish in the sea, who just cannot see
The very same stuff that it swims.

So the clues were dismissedHow else to progress?
To create that impossible dream:
Of a world without cause except our new laws
At the heart of the modern machine.

 

J.O.Y. III

 

The future and hist’ry of all the vast worlds
Are weighing and watching on high;
Those spiraling images, Milky Ways all,
Are mirrors of each you and I.

“One hundred billion,” they say is out there,
A number repeated again and again
And again for each soul
Who has walked on the earth
Since the cycleour journeybegan.


But the stars of the night be there also by day.
We just don’t remember to think it that way.
And the brightest without sees itself deep within
While the marriage betwixt sees its self once again.

                                                                   

LO! (And Behold)

 

God has eyes of ev’ry size
In shapes, in forms untold
Spread throughout the whole domain
Watching thoughts unfold.

He has brains on diff’rent trains
Of thought, of time and space
To play out His identity,
Behold, a human race: 

Self-fulfilling
Self-possessing
Self-achieving
Self-believing;
Humanistic attributes
For self-created substitutes

“In my own image”, cries a man;
His own way, his off-spring plan.
Improved Edition, that he prays,
Just seeing Nature his own way

Just like That, that dreamed a way;
That sought a vision made of clay
To hide and seek identity
In Its edition ... Its own way.

 

(aside):
It’s all about your size, you see,

And how it would be wise to see
How arbitrary measures be
When looked at independently.

Because we see such clarity,
Our hearts can’t see the parity
Contained within the great without;
So rarified, it’s all about:  

A growing sea of entropy
Borne of all those eyes that see:
Transformation information
Broadcast—oh  so quietly.  

It’s the law, ‘the second law’...
Check it out, you’ll want to see;
Mem’ries old and yet to be
All contained in entropy.

From distant skies beyond meek eyes
Etheric shadows compromise
With living deaths and dying lives
All wrapped in myst’ry and disguise.

But way down in the atom’s spin,
Beyond conditioned eyes-so dim,
That same shadow twice begins,
Singing:  “Here’s ‘I AM’ again.”

And in between these myst’ry sizes
Hovered in secure devices,
Man awaits with finite eyes
While all around’s the dancing prize.

 

  J.O.Y. IV

 

How can we gladden the heart of a man
Who has bought his way into detention

By feeding the flames of an inflated worth
As the standard of worldly dimension?

And how can it profit a man to be wise;
To see past the version of Truth that he buys

From the prince and the pope and the merchant conjoined
Who offer two sides of a counterfeit coin?

A world made of chance?  So Science can dance?
All’s random, no soul to be willed.
“In guilt, borne of Sin’s”
How religion begins.
And both want their coffers refilled.

Old systems of thought can always be bought
‘Cause they suffer a dire situation:
Success self-destructs: “sorry, no bucks;
You’d better rethink your cantations.”

So we search for the key,
For that damned Holy Grail–

The chalice with faces opposed–
As it’s filled to the brim with its artifact lot
To justify questions we pose.

Solutions arise, we pass them along;
Compound them again and again
Till all us lost souls doing time on this earth
Think all the right answers are in.

But the faces remember
Just who’s the pretender
And why he can’t walk a line straight;
That to lighten his task
He only need ask:
‘What is this damned thing called weight?’

What made the apple fall to the ground?
Why are the orbs so symmetric, so round?
Why does a feather, a hammer, a pin
Fall side by side when a vacuum they’re in?

Faster and faster they race in their course;
How to explain it? What is the source?

Where are they going, how’d it begin?
Why can’t we interpret this mosaic we’re in?

Nature abounds, seems healthy and wise;
Cares not a wit we can’t locate Her prize.
And ‘tho caught in Her midst,
‘Beyond’, we declare.
‘Don’t see Her dancin’ ... anywhere.’ 

As we search for the clues,
She plays out the ruse
And dares us to understand.
But, “nay”, we all say,
“It can’t be that way,
And it doesn’t fit into the plan.”

We must be insured; to feel self-assured
That some thing out-there doesn’t flux;
Some thing beyond time
No rhythm, no rhyme
To justify spending more bucks

On some scheme that survives
On the grandest disguise
Belying a purpose or plan
‘Cept to offer this joke
As though it bespoke
Of the best of the best:  Modern man.

But “the best” of them found
Why the world is so round-
‘Tis a thorn in the quantum religion.
And the wave they concealed
Must now be revealed
As the dance of creation we live in.

 

J.O.Y. Finale



Now no one designed or dreamed up this thing.

And no one’s conspired 'bout the myst’rys we sing.
It’s just how we play, how we seek and we hide,
‘Cause we just can’t remember
Who weights back inside. 

The clues have been passed,
And perhaps you have grasped,
That you might think about elevation.
Take a drink from the well, then weigh it a spell
And ponder your newest location!

For to weigh is to stop and to wonder.
Weight is a heavy regress.

Both are a chance to observe the same dance:
That ol’ jokeat its best; what a jest.

So whoever you are,
Wherever you’ve been,
Whatever condition your spirit is in,
Awake! from the sleep
Of your shadowland dreams
And remember whose life that you’re in.

‘Cause if you’re still a part of the joke you can’t see
Where the joke and the joker’s the same entity;
And if you think that Truth must be subject to view,

For the rest of your time will the joke be on you.

<Finis>