The Music from this track is taken from Robot - The Beauty and the Beast by Sven Vath. The track is called Harlequins Meditation for those who would like to purchase it in its entirity. Sven Vath has been one of my saviours over the years with his music. His work is varied and inspiring, and I can only thank him for seeing me through some very tortured times. I am in essence tipping my hat to him. With Big Respects - Mike.

 

 

The Harlequin

 

 

I’m not dancing

On the ceiling of conformists

Interpretations of how

They express their freedoms,

But I am dancing!

I am the harlequin the ballet

Dancer sees bargaining

A heart to stem a flow

Of blood from an unrelenting

Stream of sorrow,

And pleased be the eye

Of magic that sets imprisonment

Of feelings free from all

Contagious apathetic ways of being,

And I’m thinking before the quiet -

Returns to mind.

          Falling is the ballet dancer

Whose life is but a token

And a gesture of the riches

Set in avarice, and that, born from times

Of  greed is not the tapestry

She seeks,

(She sets her heart high and hopes

This night a flight of confidence for

Who she really be),

There upon the masquerade of

Life is the harlequin - the clown

Whose own shoes of torn souls

Are slipped like sediment upon

A silent brook that is

The weeping of all they say

Should be the quandary of our lives,

And we; the truest of eagles born

To find love flying so high

That everything is forgotten;

Are courting the higher state of grace

The grace the lord who knows

Our path was almost broken;-

Will always be our return

To sanctuary and heaven,

As the world belongs not to shallow

Men and women who wear each

Blasphemy like a badge that keeps

Themselves firmly denied release,

For they govern selves as prisoner,

And wear abuse with pride.

          The Gods they cry the incredulity of man,

And still the Eagle manages to fly

For the Harlequin is free,

Free beholding the beauty of

The Ballet Dancer,

For the world was born too beautiful

To lose, and here,

Here in the stars the ceiling could

Not hold are all the efforts the lord

With all his wizardry sets free

And nobody can beholden to

Futures untold by keeping safe

Their secrets of deception,

The future is not theirs to see if within

Their hearts; is

The glimmer of all envy

For fantasy of his power.

The eagles flying free,

Gliding looking vaulting swooping

Coursing through the veins like the

Life of millions of souls - forgotten

For the struggle,

Their wings are flexed like

The span of all Universe as mating calls

Seed the offspring of the secrets of his world,

And it is me,

          I am flying, flying like nothing mattered,

Nothing Jonathan Livingstone could ever imagine

For the design is not important but the honesty of love,

A harlequin meets the ballet dancer and the

Future that rippled only bombs and guns and deceit

Is set free from tyranny of rule

And the fool they labelled the harlequin

Is not quite the fool they see

But a man private in their afterthought

Of marking - he a beast.

          The harlequin spreads his wings

And takes his lover – shelters from their rage,

For their spending of his wealth is only their wealth,

A purse flimsy from the strain of hopelessness

In all they proclaim to be,

They’ll spend his wealth in gluttony,

But the harlequin, the eagle of all

Their obsessive thoughts of flight is long gone,

And nothing so disastrous as the cataclysmic world

Will hold them down upon the ground;

The universe splits,

But we’re long gone, long gone, long gone

From the world that labelled us as fools,

And left behind are the governors,

The very inmates of their own ‘Id’,

And make no illusions, I know who they are.

 

Michael J Waite 08^th October 2011.