© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
The things in keep that nurse our secret souls, the props that help us act
our unskripted roles, loves and labors of definition that mock ruin’s yield,
some that bring us life others for which we may be killed.
A naked man may be clothed in his belongings, a covered man exposed
by his longings, and the value not calculated by his need, will be figured
in to his graveside greed.
The early morning statutes of the days to be done, will end with the
father’s belongings to inherit the son, possessed of sins and sanctities
and earthly moldings all, we will buy and sell his own used goods within
the mystic mall.
A wretched man my find peace in his belongings, a contented man may
find pain in his longings, and the happiness beyond the gauge of his
actions, will be summed in his unknowable satisfactions.
You must command your destiny or accept your fate, you will dance to the
disappointing coda of your wait, leaving behind a few humble tokens of
your time, remembered only in one couplet of eternity’s rhyme.
A man’s soul cannot be saved by his belongings, a mans body never
healed in his longings, he can only want the things he hasn’t got, and he
will have only to become a have not.