There is no tree of power, only knowledge,
And those of us who’ve eaten freely are bound
Trapped by our vision into accepting the inadequacies of this world,
Sometimes we forget, sometimes we believe
The delusions are the burden, the curiosity that kills
And we are saved by our humanity, by our weaknesses
The love of ideals is an idolatry that makes me disdainful of others
Ignorance is not bliss…there is no bliss, there is nothing but this.
As we wait, as we work, as we toil, as we occasionally distract ourselves
The world keeps turning, the large ball of stone circles the larger ball of fire
And we dare imagine that something in the emptiness of space is there for us,
Because what else are we to do?
We have days where we let go, where we pretend to accept our death,
But this too is a con-game, meant to trick the mind, and it works for a few minutes.
We are products of the life force, we are not the owners.
We are the medium, not the message.
We are so far from the end, and this is the bitter pulp.
We are here now, this is the sweet juice, that runs down our trembling lips.