Imagine, if you will my friends
A skein of silken thread,
White as floes of feather snow,
The very tip is red.

Imagine then, this thread to wend
The universe about
To wrap red Mars & every star
A thousand times enroute.

Let nebulae be woven there
The planets knitted tight
The skeins are lit
like lanterns fair,
The red tip scarlet bright.

That tip so insignificant
Can represent this life.
It's carmine hue
the blood we shed
In suffering & strife.

The rest of the
White stretch of string
Why, let's let it be
A tale untold, let it hold
The rest... Eternity.

Yet all that stretch of silver skein,
This concept may be tough,
But, my friends, it never ends!
There'd never be enough!

So why do people struggle so
To resist the endless love?
Let that tip of velvet yarn
Be dipped in Jesus's blood!

For then the skein
which then remains
Will indeed be white!
Sin's dark stain can be retained
And it is dark as night.

Hell or heaven. Listen friends!
This poet has a voice
Heaven. Hell. Truth to tell...

Eternity. YOUR CHOICE.


Catherine Jarvis
12/13/2019

I wet the whistle first, then blow
(my algorithm will let you know—)

And then my bot will rob you blind
in the name of humankind.

Which means there exist no more than two genders;
both of them are Truth's defenders . . .

and Eric Ciaramella didn't **** himself.

Greatness, my old friend
We've walked together for so long
It grieves me then that I must leave
   thee
For now I must further ascend.

Immortality's house is dark about
Her lovely Queen on her sick bed
   lying,
In her dreams she cries out for me
With copious tears and heavy sighing.

So pack up my things and put on my
   rings
My purple robe and crystal diadem,
My going there will be a fine affair
'Twill be the greatest of all royal
   weddings.

She'll see me coming, her tears will
   stop running
I'll stand before her and banish all
   care
Then I'll take her in my arms and kiss
   her
And light up her world like a flare.