The Promise of Prophecy
Come, let us visit together the Theatre of Thought
To widen our understanding of the workings of the World Mind:
We can enter by the stage door to find
Old Poet waiting in the wings with a bulging bag of words
While Avarice sings on centre stage
Its siren songs to a hypnotised humanity
And Philosophy sits sleeping in its private box
Mumbling to itself in its dreams
And awaking occasionally only to applaud
And all the poor people sit below
Munching on their popcorn and peanuts
A captive audience in a polystyrene paradise -
They cannot hear the screams of their own souls.
But when Old Poet's patience fails
And he erupts on stage to scream:
"Awake! Arise! Reclaim your lives!"
He is mistaken for a madman or a drunk
And is hauled away by a tinplate policeman
To a padded cell in a hollow hell
And left to cool his heels and heal his head.
But Poet will have his day when daylight comes.
When the seats will have rotted
Beneath the besotted slaves
The lights will fail, the curtain fall
A hole will open in the wall
And in will rush the rays of the rising sun.
And the survivors,
Those who have not rotted in their seats
Will stumble through the rubble
Across the strewn stones
Out into a green and golden garden
Where flowers bloom and bees hum
And they will find him there
Waiting beneath the trees with hoe in hand.
And he will welcome them to the Promised Land.
More...††††††††† For Godís sake, gimme a breakÖ