The finger pointing at the moon,the steeple reaching to the skies; Logic ,love and wisdom tries to pierce the gloom, to open eyes. 'Look up!' They say, 'Look over there!' No! Look within now if you dare To find the truth that's lying there. The dons, the poets, the dance and the myths clear some of the way, but sadly miss The heart of the thing - just get the gist..........
First the moon, then the man full of awe, then the priest and the sage and the artist to draw Out the meaning and help us to know what a small speck we are In this infinite show.
Sing to the moon and dance through the night Then look to yourself to see if you're right.
The myths are the map, the Dons hold the light, but the moon's ever there , perpetual and bright. Unpick the poems, dissect the finger, deconstruct the song and analyse the singer, Love the garden and crown the *****, praise the soil for the flowers he's made. It's a great 'Whodunnit' a wonderful game, with the usual suspects guessing the name Of the power behind it; the fame or the blame.
Sing to the moon and dance through the night. Look to the heavens to see if you're right. The myths are the maps, the dons hold the light But the moon will be there Perpetual and bright.