The Circus is on its way
To another town
And this is just one more familiar
One-third full Cancun hotel
In the middle of December.
There's no sign of the humans
Who became divine
And made Jesus look like an amateur.
They've gone off to their 63 countries
To rescue dead seas, heal the incurables,
Touch the fabric of the real
With a technique
That finally leaked out
From the infrastructure.
The material world has been replaced
But is still a moment or two away
From realizing it.
Can you feel the compassion for that
Crackling through the palms
From the electric ocean?
Can you hear the fibronacci music
The monks embroidered
In every cell?
