Notwithstanding it all, life continues on. I wish us a joyful funeral. Let everyone laugh, smile, and rejoice. To cross into the Kingdom, to enter eternal life.
I was first unborn, promised to return, let spirits speak. One existence, so, we presume. Some are too wise for a first trip.
Looking for ancestors, mesmerized by flame; to call back, a phoneless life.
Days in and days out—trying to perfect worship; far too much thought. I wonder what was asked of me, unborn in motion.
Does it matter? It means everything.
And it must account for behaviors; to exist assigned to lies; thrown to wilderness, given and sent out to wolves, invested in one grand entrance.
We stand aloof, making passions, longing for heavenly existence; perfected in one desire, we dare not call it lust, to feel like absent if it weren’t for spirit.
To wonder how we became militant; to adore fervently; to easily discount each other; some strange contradiction; one hates, turns a feather, and loves with fever.
