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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Virtual Reality At Altimira Cave Centuries pass, in what would be Spain, While the snows fell and fell They painted their walls, Making their mark, Calling down the magic of the image To control the beasts whose flesh, bone and hide Made possible their desperate lives Imitating the terrible, beautiful world Their minds came awake in, Put them on their walls, said their prayers and hoped For more days to dawn for they and theirs. Then, suddenly - Just a little while back- The weather warmed The caves were left Crops were grown Cities brought to birth Religion organized Then more organized Until Faith itself became a Science The book of Nature translated and read Her every secret exposed, exploited Until wonders were commonplace, And the commonplace was elevated to wonder By new magicians By popular request Relieving the dull ache that remained After we pulled the sense of Majesty out of the caves, out of our distrusted, Protesting hearts. So here we find ourselves Sitting in our personal caves Awaiting magic from the flashing cathode boxes Hoping someone will keep making dreams for us To control what's outside By imitating it inside With our fondest desires. Pray to the Electric Wall, Ye Faithful! Pray for beauty, pain, rage, seduction, sedition; For gods, for whores, for profit, penance - All the things the real world holds, But only our lunatics embrace. Everyone knows it's better to reflect the world to ourselves, Dress it up as we like; With the ever-present option to switch channels Rather than face it, cold and naked; And call things by their own true names. Some of us are tiring of the dream wall, all the same. Some of us like things cold and naked. Some of us will always venture out of the cave. Some of us know the true names. We teach our children the difference between Real And pictures of the Real. We teach our children to paint their beasts on the walls - Sometimes - And how to call them by their real names And how to kill them with their real spears. Come join the children outside the cave; The little ones who know. You'll find the snow's not really so deep, And under it There's real grass, real stone, real fire, real hope.
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