Notes from a monk with a poem, sweeping the chapel of ideas, awaiting the broader dawn.


Carry that weight

Who carries the flag of freedom?  What nation bears the responsibility of allowing its people their choice of destiny?  Is there a house that empowers its children?  What fear, confusion and immaturity keeps us from doing with others as we would have done with ourselves?  What complexity involves itself in our morality so that we turn so constantly from the light?


However you define these abstractions, will you deny their existence?  Are we on the right path?  Perhaps order exists only within chaos . . .


Define your mind.  Is truth confined to a single book?  Is there a goddess to lead us?  Would you follow if she rose?


Are we living in the future or rewinding the past?

The Man and the Red Star

Open minds let in the light, like windows let in truth

Pan took to the riverside, looking for his prize nymph, cut reeds from the shore and made of them an instrument named Syrinx.  So he wiled the time with a tune, not knowing that his flute had been made of the magically disguised body of his crush.  A Greek goddess of purity. Rush forward, and a man stands before the Red Star in 2112.  He brings to the Priests of Syrinx a gift, a relic of a guitar.  They have laid claim to the goddess as iron-bound chastity, while he has rediscovered song.  The Priests of the Temples of Syrinx destroy his guitar.  They hope to destroy his individuality, holding to a fascist belief in their totalitarian collective.  Terminate that storyline with a mental time machine, friends.  Lay claim to this Temple of Ideas with me.  I lay no cornerstone, but a touchstone of independent thought that is my own offering.  I am but a wave to the ocean.  I have seen many stars in the sky, have been in awe.  I like to hear music before I judge its quality.  There should be so many touchstones of light across the web.  I need a better search engine.

We will hijack the Temple before they lay the first stone.  Into the cell they design we inject a seed of light, so that the towers of tomorrow will raise beacons.  Read it as V for Vendetta if you like, and bring vigilante love with shaved heads.  Weaponize your anonymity.  Bring down the power structure.  Raise up the artists, the lovers and soldiers.

There is a war going on for your mind.  The revolution will not be televised.  Open minds let in the light, like windows let in truth.

Pan was a shepherd’s god.  Some see his myth as a calling.  Little known is the muse that brought him to music.  The follower of Artemis, who was the twin sister of Apollo, Syrinx became a reed and a song.