Man, the Amnesiac
         
        You are the heirs of Adam and Eve.
          Inside you Original Beauty lies concealed!
          Oh, when will you remember?
        I see you scratch your head in the marketplace
          Looking for your keys,
          You body become large and hard
          Like a fortress
          To keep Soul-bird locked away.
        How have you forgotten, O Man?
          How can you live through your life
          Scratching your head as if to remember
          Where you left your keys, but actually trying
          To remember where you left yourself?
        How did you create
          That mold that is not you?
          How do you keep living there
          Fifty, seventy-five years,
          Smiling and joking till the very end
          As though you were in there somehow?
        Yes, you are there,
          But dying of mortal fear
          In the cellars and dungeons within you.
          Yes, you are there, but saying,
          
          "I must let no one see me."
           I must let no one know me.
           I must behave always perfectly,
           Lifting my spoon with precision to stir my tea,
           Lipstick always perfect,
           Speaking only words that are expected"--
        All to conform to a mirrored image
          Seen in the world and reflected
          A million times in people and things.
        But those who reflect yourself to you
          Are themselves looking to you
          To reflect themselves to them!
        In this way mirrors of untruth
          Endlessly distort gesture and word,
          
          Spreading misconception out over hills and seas
          Till mirrors' lie brooks no contradiction
                                                     in 
          the billions' eyes.
          
          Then would the world destroy itself.
          
          But there is a flaw in this devil's plan.
          Hidden in this well of emptiness are Vats of Truth,
          Treasure-Houses in human form
          Storing enough wealth for all to be rich!
          
          "Cheesebooger and a medium root beer,"
                                        says 
          the waitress.
        Someday the Treasure will spill out onto her.
          Someday she will discover the Cinderella wings
          Lying waiting within her own form,
          The faerie wings and the storehouses of dignity.
        
        Someday she will know
          That all we see are props
          And that all props come from within.
        Someday the gossiping ladies will know that they are God!
          Someday the rude service station attendant will be
          An overflowing Ocean of Love!
        We must swim upstream to the Source of ourselves!
          We who have forgotten must remember!
        Under the masks and the charades,
          Adam and Eve, I am calling you!