My dear friend ,
Let me leave you with the concept of nothing .
No thoughts ,
adjectives , vowels or nouns .
Nothing .
Not a white sheet of paper ,
Just the endless ticking of a clock ,
tick tick .
Then you might begin to understand
The master of what is real ?
For out of nothing comes thought ,
Pictures in your mind .
Then and only then can you start to write .

A bird claws at my window Paine , it's midnight , and squawks for half an hour .
Now the birds in your room ,
You chasten it with a broom to which there is no ending .
But what if there is no room ?
And why is there something rather than nothing ?

Then what if that something was God ?
That entity that like th a poet could bring things to life ?
His word might become flesh ,
So light might overcome the dark .
Then the sun like a bridegroom might rise and in the evening tide set .
Eight hundred and sixty four thousand miles wide ,
Fifteen million Celsius of heat .
Gods champions league ,
his Gold cup .
Earth his paradise .
Like a child leaves his socks on the floor ,
My child's been here before ,
Yet our perverse minds can't see , God s. beauty and majesty .

Blind fold we walk into the night ,
with only selfish thoughts to please ,
Like cowards we shrivel and die ,
and evil a ghost of the light .
Bound it must take flight.
Then pride and greed our selfish need are mounted on stallions of which no man canst tame .
What if a crimson light ,
from a cross of wood speaks like a whisper to a beating heart ?

For the lives of the wicked are but empty ,
And in doing right we suffer long ,
In contemplation of things eternal ,
Is reward in Gods heaven above .

We beat our ******* how rightchous am I ,
God look down on me a sinner .
X