what do we, have in the end, other than War or Peace?
death reaches, preaches, and sends Words afar
for as we know, this is the end, atomic release
from our Soul’s nonlinear inner keep!
Cauldron’s holding the mistakes, some may weep
boiling stew, eyes and guts gew, mixed piece
bubbling till the evening noon; Witches fly soon
from Catacombs underneath men; when?
Doth thyne will sting from Zion’s plan!?
Swords appointed unto the Son of Man
anointed the Golden Bowl; a prophesy command
for deep scythes had breached my Inner War
from the store of inner wisdom; living in a Kingdom
of Self-Taught Realization from BridgeWay
arches the dance refreshed off a single ray
philo for meaning, now rocking the old school traits
select dates, programming essential fates
time-lines to surrender in grace
for in the race; put the echo sound the the check
for that is the riddle; Silence is the Echo of the Word
Fjords crossed! Ambrosia likened to my Wool
Captured fabric and now I disperse through the Abyss
Captured the veil’s need; was then, now is when?
So I silence, but the silence mirror’s nothing;
so nothingness is silence own silence
so thus then The Word becomes by realizing
To be nothing, perchance to sling the songs
of merrygold and everlong bays of coastal tides
Summerlands of nymphs fairies and the like
dancing in another cauldron for the White
but the prelate only comes through the motion
that when in commotion many fluctuations have
interfered with the pathways the must
comes and test in the West, North blows Cold
for the Wind is Harsh and doesn’t harbour things foretold
Rows and fields, rice and flowers
gains of manna and herbal showers
hours on hours the days eternity
releases into nothingness where essence is free!
like relativity from a point of your soul
but just connection to all things
gravity’s role to the bending will of man
that mind of God never bends
for he is the Sun
The heat for our When
For in this light; all is happening then