Grand Design

In the theatre of each passing moment Disembodied voices direct the act that we act Through the noise of each identical day We still hear the music that makes us dance But somewhere deep inside Or so the story goes There is a sacred place And within those limits, the true self is contained We've built museums and galleries For all our depictions of life We invite people, the people come And that's the magic of our minds Every trick of the eye is by design Sorrow and ageing and weakness and need (and need) No such limits in the realm of dreams But the more that we keep to ourselves The less we recognize what the mirror sees We are fluent in every genre and movement May our canvas be never clean Seems what we draw and draw upon Is the most that we can be