There is a place caught between this one and another.

Found in cracks running along walls and in the space between trees during the night.

Hidden in the deeper dark, held in endless twilight.

A place, where in looking long enough, you may find the shadows looking back.

This small world, filled with the skittering and scuttling of small things and the glint of small eyes in the everblack.

Do not worry.

You are welcome in my realm.

What you can do
if you can
is get through this
as a man.

Easier than it sounds when the ground's
always opening up to swallow you
and you
want people to follow you?
you must be joking.

if you look good you'll do good
and I could believe what I've read,
if I sat with a bucket on my head
I really could believe it.

But we do as we do or
we don't
and more often than not
we shoot the messenger
not
because we don't like the message
we
just don't like the messenger.

What bothers me is
what part of art and I
wonder where do I start
to paint the
picture.

Patron: "...And can you add the diced Hamlet to that omelette?"

Waiter: "Jolly good sir, and do you know if you'll be having dessert?"

Patron: "Oh yes, I'll have a strawberry Shakespeare."

Waiter: "Brilliant, your omelette will be out before you can say 'Ides of marshmallow'."

Patron: "That was dreadful and you know it."

Waiter: "Deary me, sir."

END SCENE

And all that we've done has been for nothing

what if it's an empty place
how will we face the truth that religion was
just a way of keeping us in check?

Just a sec

a blank screen could mean that we paint our own hereafter

What would you paint?

The laughter of children enjoying the game?
The peace of a walk down a long country lane?
the moon
her room
an aroma of a home a
long ways away?

I'd paintbrush each day in colours that run onto a noonday sun
and sail into the sanctuary of a lip balm sea.

If we are
we will be
unlimited.

There's no guarantee
we
all have to wait
but
I'll keep my fingers
crossed
and
I guess that I'll see
eventually.