O what a task. What a task.
Mankind and his mask
meticulously as a tarantula
paper mached -
a heart’s hymnal; a soul’s sutra –
Donning the nimble acrobat within us all,
Our stilts ten feet tall
whilst we dance along the stage
of Life’s magical Circue du Solei
t’themes and brief yage dreams
of alegria, grief ‘n’ rage,
Only t’shed it all at the end,
The same, lame skin
of that tarantula.