William Masonis | + Follow Poet |
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Virtual Reality

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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