Paper Devils

What kindly fairies might ignite the paper devils of doubt that the flames of
resistance may dance again in defia
nce?
What elfin folk might tickle our joy and juggle us into a consciousness
which is not imploded?
Oh, let us dance and let us sing, tear off the chains that we be free aga
in.
Oh, we sing a song of want,
and our thirst is the thirst of the desert wanderer whose shadow is stronger than
its maste
r.
We sing a song of want, and our hunger is the hunger of the mountain hermit
whose footsteps are stronger than its maste
r.
We sing a song of want, and the loss is the loss of the city vagrant
whose drunken ramblings are stronger than its mas
ter.
But also we sit with dreams, two hours, maybe three, attempting to define them,
to give them contour, or is that to over-refine the
m?
Hear this then, the carnival, begone before begun.
Nothing but beginnings before begotten. nothing but youth before the forgotten.
The charnel houses are no more, no need to settle the score.
No shadows to haunt tomorrow's dawn, nothing but joy as joy be born.
No more loss, no more need, no more cruelty, no more greed, no more maybes,
never a but, the doors of Mammon are firmly shu
t.
Then what are we but the soul looking for itself ?
What are we but the cast of divinity's shadow?
What are we but the shapeless form of arrival, a silent voice in the wilderness of
reason, dancers beneath the face of dea
th.
Then what madness that we turn from the beauty of love and the joy of its perfect
grace. So, tell me then, for all the heavens above, are there not kindly fairies that
enchant this blessed place?