of the "NOW" and the "WAKING" and the suffering "ILLUSION"

...and i'm not gonna come callin again
I haven't lost the magic no, but i have spent too much of it
watching planets explode
and then fall in on themselves...
like Zen
and enlightenment
and those riddling masters
with their logic
not logic
and the grass below their toes is
is not grass
you were
and you were nothing
and this whole freaking thing...
the mess and the madness
the snaps and the stars are
and not
and those dreams are
and not

is the question you ask yourselves before you slip into dreaming, "what illusion shall i wake up tomorrow in?"

each idea
prearranged spontinuity
what of that wind howling children
what of that bold burning woman?

oh and only
holy wastebasket salvation
for those who seek satori
by trying to not try
to seek anything

these are crumpled crippled days
and again I won't come callin
no not anymore
theres no place for all the ringing
or the hearts abandonments and

these are shadows
transparent shimmering
these are "never was'
and "always has been"
and ones left wondering
where is the strength?
where is the love in
a neglected friendship

where is the connection?
i don't feel you anymore
lost in your own worlds
no i won't come callin
theres only so much
pocket change left
and I'm to make sure
that it's well spent