Since I was a child I believed.

Believed in the near tangible,

The provable

The almost-rational.

I could never swallow the bitter pill of faith,

Religion,

God,

The dust and ash of rinsed out fables.



I still search the skies with a lack of avail.

I’d settle for a twitch of movement

But I dream of those purple beams,

So violent and foreign.

The opening of the doors

Should budge our closed minds.