here, on the surface of air,
i rest against a substance
that manages to wet my soul.
something tugs and i bob into it.
though I'm quickly ******
right back out as the grip loosens.
an introduction to a terrifying upheaval of what is known and familiar.
another world I've seen there
a place that the words I've chosen
simply can't describe
in mere comparative prose.
what vault of pages holds the phrases
we'd hope could explain and conceptualize that space?
what language contains an account of the things I've seen?
it was then, with ego in shreds,
existentially threatened
and backed into a corner with dread,
having been revealed of
that which exists
and that which does not
that I realized...
This is all we've got ..
The illusion built around us
is but a pack of Lincoln Logs®
We are not yet living
and we're already dead.
And in this, our plot reserved for building Heaven,
we've been so blind as to construct ourselves a hell instead.
now the teachings make more sense,
in this new light ..
as does our tendency
to misunderstand them.
We deserve the world
that we build for others.
Not the one that we build for ourselves
with vainglory in the name of our God.