anyone who really knows me knows that one of the things I really dislike is empty social ritual. I certainly don't mean we should be serious and earnest all the time, but we should always be sincere and real. Christ does not dwell in untruth. Yet it is the very place where many people hide to escape from the unbearable ...
Like painted puppets on a string,
The people dance, the people sing,
They do not mean a single thing.
Security rests in display:
They make their motions every day,
To keep all random chance at bay.
They trample you beneath their feet
If you don’t match their seamless beat,
And loneliness is long defeat.
Dressed in the moment’s proper styles,
They wear their calculated smiles
Like painted, polished crocodiles.
The rituals of social drugs,
Precision of their robot hugs --
Real flesh and blood might mess their rugs.
And underneath the clothes they wear
Lie broken hearts beyond repair
But they must never be laid bare.
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1 comment:
Wow, so much depth of meaning there.
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