Dislodged from the cloud tomb,
I descend into the disillusioned silence
Of a crowd watching three men
Each on his dais of choice,
They speak from mind and lung and heart
Speak to the watchers
Who covet the difference between life and living
The first from his dais of stone
Looks forward and contends,
“Know that what you sense and say
Is all there is at end of day.”
The second from his dais of dust
Looks down and recalls,
“All there is and all there was
Come to be from what one does.”
The third from a dais of glass
Looks up and muses,
“I may live both dumb and plain
But this one thing I know I see
That mountains move from their refrain
When thoughts take flight in reverie
For men who seek the means to heal
Are bound to sink at what they feel
The mind and breath are bound in three
Bound by your cord of love for me.
I descend into the disillusioned silence
Of a crowd watching three men
Each on his dais of choice,
They speak from mind and lung and heart
Speak to the watchers
Who covet the difference between life and living
The first from his dais of stone
Looks forward and contends,
“Know that what you sense and say
Is all there is at end of day.”
The second from his dais of dust
Looks down and recalls,
“All there is and all there was
Come to be from what one does.”
The third from a dais of glass
Looks up and muses,
“I may live both dumb and plain
But this one thing I know I see
That mountains move from their refrain
When thoughts take flight in reverie
For men who seek the means to heal
Are bound to sink at what they feel
The mind and breath are bound in three
Bound by your cord of love for me.
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