So Sing of the Wise Ones With Light In Their Eyes
Copyright 2002 by Matt Gill

So sing of the wise ones, with light in their eyes.
Sing songs of the darkness, the shallow, the lies.
Sing stanzas and stanzas of progress, demise:
Sing songs of when men and their myths were not sighs.
Sing, I ask you, little songbird.
Sing, I beg you, little songbird.

Drumming and dancing are all that we know.
Dancing and damaging, mangling we go,
Damaging, maiming, appease gods with woe.
Dancing and dancing, deceived we more grow.
Dance, monkey, dance.
Dance the snow dance.
Dance a slow dance.

Muse of all music make some melody,
Make operas be filled all with songs about me.
Mix laughter and pride with some vague tragedy.
Muse of all music make a name for me.
Make stars bow to my name,
Make men stare like God came,
Make sense of a riddle game…

Make me, or my gall, tame.


Dull and so dim sits the sun in its cage
And so sullen and quiet we stare
Too busy to notice the silencing rage
Of immortal and spiritual air;
Of the calm, disapproving, sad glare;

But broken and lost is the laughter of youth
While condemning this face that we spy;
Just a minute ago could a smiling white tooth
Be espied by this blackening eye.
But let all who know laughter yet, die.

Black and more black come to join in the chorus
While a silken thread closes the womb.
Such disdain is against? Well then who can be for us
In a mirrored and lonely dark room,
All alone in our mirrored guilt tomb?



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