you're not talking to me

you're talking to a spirit, even though you think i am once again full of nonsense. how can flesh be spirit? you ask. and i have to quite agree, for that is how it seems isn't it? and yet how strong the conviction, till the lie shows itself. and yet how incredible the fear, when a lack of knowledge was all that was as the harmless snake slid past but human ingenuity knows no limits, conjured up the dragon comes about even though it breathes no fire. an ornament, hanging on a christmas tree till the wind blows then mythical dragons soar into the sky way into deep heavens knows where the heart maybe? roar! the temple shakes, the echoes of many spirits rise with a new invited guest coming with fire from hell and heaven. i bring forth news, it cried. hear, hear, pride chided to the lame dragon still sweating profusely when the journey through intangibles and thin walls is no small feat! but men congratulate on what is easily perceived, seen and heard. hear, hear lamented greed who has not enough tries to chase the tail of a dragon for a temple too small for his liking. hear, hear scoffs the green dragon at pride for disdain is clear. your news isn't much of a news when this temple has already crumpled, what you see is simply a mirage of what used to be. news indeed, was not that troubling or eventful when it had already happened. didn't you know? lust talks back to the stranger, still babbling about tomorrow, yesterday and what nots, and a spirit echoes back: a shadow this flesh when the movement is already made. it was all old news in the temple, for this is where everything begins. the shadows, the movements, the plays simply mimic what has already occurred though the forms differ, it matters not, not in the temple where the unchanging remains.