IX625 Annuit Coeptis Into the Mystery Cover Art Prologue The Call The Choice The Press The Trial The Answer Afterword Home Site Map Contact Search Message Board

Dream Yet Complete A Nursery Rhyme for Grown-Ups One | The Call Once upon a child's mind, did flutter butterfly   Gift to share with one then all, who'll open wings to try Asked to ask and seek and knock, on wooded points of view   Goodness treats patient resolve, with echoes ringing true Child's play remembering, climb branches looking sees   Others just can't find the time, and hunt on hands and knees Contact lost within this space, where filtered light grows dim   Clarity falls up not down, when outside looking in Some will search for ways to hold, fate's hand a length away   Thinking armed with tooth to claw, at wisdom's slow decay Sow confusion to behold, no forest, only leaves   Spinning yarns of trusting souls, poor fools too blind to flee Washing hands that knock then walk, on thinking no one home   Hesitation's lost just like, those forking roads to roam Some feel more imported needs, and cross off of their lists   Places childish notions lead, on trails that don't exist Foolish to have asked at all, one might have recognized   If answer did the questioning, wise mark demystified Rhetoric a form of art, rhetorical but true   Some sad tidings beach themselves, on words cast out of blue Curious this mystery, short lived in memory   Funny how the writing saves, the ends from tragedy Means the shell can justify, hold ocean to the ear   Laughter from sand castle hall, to door someone draws near Questions in our upraised hands, and answers we'll surprise   Like the caterpillar who, does seem to death defy It might take a miracle, belief may then belie   Fate it seems that common sense, is fated to deny Battles rage within us all, where truth is compromised   There dreams, like tissue paper wings, are torn and tossed aside Two