“The Scarab’s Carousel” Artist Unknown

The great, fat, scarab beetle,
Is rolling through the desert.
She imagines that her faience self,
Is burning in the sun;
Burning in the clamour,
Burning in the blue,
Of ancient Pharaoh’s painted eye,
In stones, and bones of sealed up tombs,
In jewels, and jars and sealed up rooms,
In winds that blow the sands on high,
And, sweep the broad, Saharan sky.

And, the carousel goes ’round and ’round.
The music does not stop.

There is ageless dust on angel’s feet,
The phases of the moon repeat.
The seasons of the sun return,
The sands and the sky and the white stars burn.

Lacquered blue shines the scarab sky.
The carousel horse rolls a rhinestone eye.
Horse rides up and, horse rides down,
Riders laugh, or cry, or frown.
A life is lost.
A life is found.
And, every life to a horse is bound,
All riding ’round and ’round.

Sunrise up, another day.
Then the sunset horse, rides the other way.
A turn and the fool becomes a king.
A child is born and, the scarabs sing.

Put both your arms ’round the rushing wind.
Kiss your lover and, hug your friend.
Again go up, go down, go ’round,
While angel’s dust falls on the ground.

A comet’s streak, a shooting star,
Turn ’round and wonder why you are.
Reach out to grab the golden ring.
If you win the prize, you’ll have everything,
And, you’ll hear the songs the scarab sings,
Of a million generations,
And, a million other things.

Of eggs and hatchlings,
Tomorrow and today.
How every morn another comes,
And, someone goes away.
Tomorrow and tomorrow,
And, tomorrow,
And, today.
A million generations,
Each going out to play.

Comes night again,
Again comes day,
Some want to go.
Some want to stay.
And, some may not,
While others may.
This is the song,
This is the way.
And now, there’s nothing left to say.

The carousel keeps going ’round.
The music does not stop.