Glass And The Machines Of God
Chapter VII - A Happy Ending?
April 7, 2000, 12:00 am
© Billy Corgan
and so our story draws its final close, a million miles, a few smiles, and a pocketful of tears...all of it earned and burned strong into a consciousness like every living flashing star...all that was was left as perpetual myth, to twist in the wind laughing and wheezing until all could point and remember their stories, their movements, history as a claim they could all bear their own witness to...the body now ravaged but the spirit translucent and very much alive...like all poetry it would lose its place of meter over time, the rhymes and reasons would stale, leaving only pretty prose of frozen sentiment for a simpler, bygone era...it's paper now, and you can do with it as you wish...no one soul need debate the dizzy purpose of the exercise, or the confusions that led them all thru thicker jungles...it is as it was, simply yours...
the kids came and stole the show, naturally of course, when upon that hollowed stage the band strode as if any year, any time but now, but the final collapsing point did go noticed...weep your years and slit your wrists, curse your heroes and kick in the screens, the image stands...image upon image superimposed until all that was left was but greasy blur and a dull ache...but as each song tore each resonant after-image down, all that was left was very clear to see...the blueprint, the tabula rasa, the prayer as hymn had been in your palm all along...we never left...
among these theories of delusion lay the simple heart of a simple man...maybe you know him, maybe you don't, but it needn't matter anyway because the tale told a thousand times was but one chapter in the long road...the fable that must know this end, in this moment had spun this simple man as gold, as eternal cold stop, as spinning fire-child, and as forever grasping animal...for even in war the most gentle of souls will let out a cry stabbing and cutting with all the passion a human being, all but dead, can muster up from rusty gut ...let this tale end as it began...a soul alone in this world... heart connected to mouth, mouth to song, song to the heavens if only to tickle the very real ear of our divine creator... may the creator always spin back endless possibility and infinite potential...with this vibration in the timeless space, a mark is made to begin, so let this be the mark to end...in the void moments of madness, seeking and clutching, our simple man laughs out loud for all the world to hear...the drab crowd said shush and be quiet but it only made him laugh harder...for it really was funny, not because of a dumb joke or the wittiest remark but because he was having fun...it was all too simple and he really couldn't believe his eyes...now. here. always. you. "thank you God for all I am" ...so at the last chord, in the last fade of sound, a stillness came and a peace they had all waited for for so long...one could dream that they would know what they would want now, and with good honor may our hero forge ahead... with love on your side anything is possible, even love... all wounds would hope to heal, the machines could stand down and sing their singsong whir to the wind, trees, and mother earth...it was a good day, and the night will hold quiet...his mother in dreams of good things...
THE END