Rain - Parsifal

If this is the Big Apple, maybe Manhattan is Avalon!
There’s a guy who lives in the basement of the apartment block where I’m staying – The caretaker, I think. Been telling me about Carl Jung, Myths, archetypes and dreams; a whole inner world that we hardly know.

Wish you were here to see it all
RICK


“There is a whole other life of connections and symbolic drama going on just beneath the surface of our existence. But he certainly couldn’t have seen it; playing The Fool to The Wounded King. I’m only just starting to see it myself.”


The heron flies in silence across the frozen lake
Across the hollow wasteland where the Ancient King is dying
Beneath the pale and frozen stars in silence he is flying

Beneath the streets in camera we entertain the Gods
Underneath the barren stairs in silence we are praying
As above and so below the pallid lights are playing

Waiting for the purest fool and purest pity’s might
Waiting for the healing blade to carve away the night
Waiting for the one who comes to serve the Sacred Grail
And draw the hidden blood into the light


“We may be the ancient ones who feed the arcane furnace
But our gold is not the common gold”


The secret story of my life remains beneath the ice
Beneath the fractured surface where the Ancient King is fishing
It follows lines of spider silk that guide the refugee
To gaze upon the hidden face I could not bear to see

TAKE THIS CUP AWAY FROM ME
For I can see my hidden face and cannot look away