The Return To Heaven

Oh the mystery! How long has it pushed him on?

For millennia he has puzzled over it. Saturated his mind with gin and oranges. Created diabolical things. Tulips black as night which drove the world into a frenzy.

He has delighted them, teased them until they giggled. Floated bubbles before their eyes which popped and made them blink; miss the trick.

He has worked his magic and they have stood still, mesmerised but never understanding that the creation of these things, these glistening trinkets that distract and entertain, are pure coincidence.

He pursues dreams beyond all this. But the wonder, the mystery eludes him.

He has imagined he will never draw the curtain back and see once more what lies beyond. The key to the treasure chest lies lost at the bottom of the ocean. It fell to earth alongside him.
And he cannot make the connection. The lines are down, broken and no alchemy or incantation can repair what he has done.

Then in a dream he understands. It is the not knowing of a thing which sets you free.

There is no magic that can return him to heaven.

Only song, only belief can release him from his cage and allow him to soar home, back into the dark abyss.