Today I met one thousand faces, Lotus blossom, Do you fall from single flowers? Today I met a hundred mirrors, Layers of my soul, Peeled off like ruined suit. Today I crushed a dozen hearts, And mended my own, Are these flames of hell or heaven? Tomorrow I will sleep, Tonight I am awakened, But my eye forever gazes. Tomorrow I will meet a thousand faces, Flightless blossom, Must I fall with all your flowers? Tomorrow I will smash a hundred mirrors, Luck is received through misfortune, Destruction, life's greatest womb.
are these flames of hell or heaven... that's heavy stuff man. Luck born of misfortune, brings to mind the Dark Night of the Soul. Destruction before construction, as my father the carpenter always says. Ain't it the truth?
The role of the Shaman is one that falls only to a very few, and it belongs rightfully only to them. It is the most horrid of the abberations of Western Culture that its Shamans are not honored and left in Peace to do their Work. This is nevertheless the Will of GOD.
It was so intangible. I really wanted to know what the fuck you were talking about. What was the catalyst refered to in the last stanza? Maybe thats the point, maybe I'm just a little slow.
There are a few themes, with smaller themes intertwined. Think birth and death, think life and emptiness, think our society . . . That is, if you want to think of them. Otherwise, take it in any other direction. The words are for you, let them weave what they will, That vision is a part of you.
