Harmony Collaspes

Jethro Tull - Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day, Live 1980

Harmony collapsing upon harmony.  Wait.  You don't hear it... wait.  The man of dissonance thrown from the theater.  So simple for the ones who look, but don't see.  He is one.  Perhaps he is central.  mad man made to run by a central mind running.  Made to hovel.  Bow before the universal.  Laughter.  Mocker.  Heretic.  He doesn't know.  He doesn't care.  Society will move, sufficient to later languish... so desperately swallow on the mild scraps marking his trail.  Forgetting meals sacrificed for little more than pitiful parcels perhaps... that was all they could ever handle.

Harmony collapses upon harmony.

She...

Will see...

Will be...

The...

Rabbit on the run.

The sound builds.  The movements form each into each.  The blend.  The moment.  The forever present, melds quickly into the past, leading towards a future unforgiving. 

He drove back... drove through.  The place where... life erupted.  Interrupted for a moment.  Every so sacred.  Ever so...  The place where they didn't make love... love made them.  One joined to one, seamless in making the other... that began the world anew.  He looked.  He saw.  So much had changed.  So much had stayed the same. 

Memory reduced to nothing more than a lying mirror.  Cooing soft, cooing slight, seducing in its wait.  All he could do was salvage that... which he knew was sweet.  Was pure.  Even if it was little more, than little more... it was his. 

But the tales it told... so sweet... so magnificent.  Though he knew he could never go back... never change... anything.  But he smiled.  It could never be taken.  Never be stolen.  Purity that shames the very angels can happen... and it did.  The laugh, the cry, the defiant fist rose against that which will, which does, remind the problem always was not with his passion, but his lack of control over over them.  While the whiplash smile in subversive shadows, reminded that perhaps it was not his passions, but a banal world civilized that cried... that screamed desperate for the passions that erupted from his very existence as it collapsed back toward...

the banal bacinal...

...decadent land, that had traded its soul...

As feeble blows flew.. he smiled.

Run rabbit run.

Too many cannot face truth.

Harmony collapses upon...

harmony.

In the end...

It always will...

It always does.