Untitled Document

Time To Be Real


An illusion by which we can become
More real
A moment unremarked by the universe,
By nature, the seasons, or stars
Moment we have marked out in timelessness
Human moment
Making a ritual, a drama, a tear
On eternity
Domesticating the infinite
Contemplating the quantum questions
Time, death, new beginnings,
Regeneration, cycles, the unknown


Allow uncontemplated regions
Of time to protect themselves
Into your sleeping consciousness,
Inducing terror or mental liberation
Much as death confrontation
Paralyses some with despair
Makes others poison
Themselves with emptiness
But releases in a fortunate few
A quality of enlightenment
A sense of the limited time we have
Here on earth to live magnificently
To be as great and as happy as we can
To explore our potential to the fullest
And to lose our fear of death
Having gained a greater love
And reverence of life
In its incommensurate golden brevity

So it is with this moment
A gigantic death
And an enormous birth
This mighty moment
In timelessness


Illusions are only useful if we use them
To help us get our true reality
Initiations and rituals if they are noble
Have this power
(They magnify the secret hour)
They enable us to pass from
The illusion of our lesser selves
To the reality of our greater selves
Our soaring powers
They free us from our smallness
‘Our humiliated consciousness’ as Camus said
And they deliver us
Into what we really are
What we sometimes suspect we are
What we glimpse we are when in love,
Magnificent and mysterious beings
Capable of creating civilisations
Out of the wild lands of the earth
And the dark places in our consciousness

We are in ways small and great,
The figures, the myths and legends
That we ourselves have invented
Our dreams are self-portraits,
Our myths, our heroic legends,
Are the concealed autobiography of the human race
And its struggles
Through darkness to light
And through higher darkness again.

Human kind cannot live long
With the notion
Or the reality
Of timelessness
Only in the mind
Only in the spirit


With us, things must have a beginning
Theatre grew out of ritual
And ritual grew out of the silence
Here, now is an origin
We are poised always at the threshold
Of an unknown, unwritten, unforeseen act
Let’s gather ourselves together,
Clear our minds
Make ourselves present to ourselves
And to our age.
That we be focused
On this stage.
That we concentrate
And listen
That we prepare ourselves
In seriousness and with joy.
Let’s be wonderfully awake
For what we are going to create,
To make happen
In this mass co-scripting of the future


Now is a material event
It is also a spiritual moment
And the blinding light of the real
Can pierce through and tear
Asunder the unreal
Every moment thus carries
The ordinary and the monumental
Staring out of an office window
Or being blinded, like Paul,
On the plain road to Damascus,
By the light of true seeing,
Then the celluloid of what seems
Like the real world
Is stripped away
And behind it we see all things
As they could be.
A better world, a world renewed.
This moment is thus
It carries dust and dreams
Pavement or streams
A moment on the clock
Or a moment of the spirit
I dream of what it can be
I dream of what this
Millennial moment can be
What we could let it be
A wonderful excuse for beginning
A clearing out of the garbage
Of our histories and our consciousness
Best excuse in a thousand years
To transcend our grim and ancient fears


Everyone loves a Spring cleaning
Let’s have a humanity cleaning
Open up history’s chambers of horrors
And clear out the skeletons behind the mirrors
Put our breeding nightmares to flight
Transform our monsters with our light
Clear out the stables
In our celebrated fables
A giant cleaning
Is no mean undertaking
A cleaning of pogrom and fears
Of genocide and tears
Hatred and brutality
Let’s turn around and face them
Let’s turn around and face them
The bullies that our pasts have become
Let’s turn around and face them
Let’s make this clearing-out moment
A legendary material atonement.