Plato's Cave Within A Cave

A world of rock weeping water,
Limited light glistens on stone,
Longings for that which is other,
Resonates through flesh and bone.
Yet here we stare,
Our lives threadbare.
Plato's cave.

Ever the fires in the equations,
Kindle in lives and galaxies,
Yet manikin-marketer's persuasions,
Ever beholden to the orthopraxy,
Words without sight,
The day is the night.
Plato's cave.

As the blind speak of elephants!
What is grass, what is green?
Frail knowledge never recants,
Wispy certainties never seen.
Life without form,
In fiction adorned,
Plato's cave.

And lo, the philosopher's quest,
A path oft hailed in hemlock,
Neither quite reaches the crest,
Nor finds the keys to unlock,
Souls in shackles,
Locked in manacles,
Plato's cave.

Seraphs, Saints bring a salve,
And shepherd into the real,
Of past darkness absolved,
Awakened walk free and feel,
Upon the grass,
A holy mass,
Outside,
Plato's cave.