Manifesto

The pattern of the past becomes a pattern in reverse
Like zebras walking backwards in a mirror at the zoo
As we pass by best and worst to slum with better and worse
In a universe which seems an existentialist joke

If I feel it has failed me does it feel I failed it too?
I seek but fail to find much as my life goes up in smoke
But our failings not withstanding this is my universe

I may not understand it but I know it like the hand
Which comforts me and challenges my need to understand
With a feeling of unsettling familiarity

Do immortals watch us with amusement and do they laugh
At us as we play beat-the-clock here in the other half
(The dark side of the moon as it would seem to me to be)?

The hand which comforts me assures me that I need not know
The answers just the questions and that hand goes where I go
Though I have the questions now the answers may not be known
Until I understand the hand which comforts is my own

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII