Of what decendants do we come Were we first Are we last Scrapped from the depths of his doledrums Just a test and game for him to play Does he have other worlds Full of creatures that might make your toes curl As gruesome as your inner most thoughts Or a brother and sister of whom he may have taught Do we coinside with a billion other types of universe Spinning and just whirling All kept in a case Just shelved to keep them smiling And answer me this young thing of whom I know not speak Who watches on him who thinks he guards us His Master Also A Reclusive Mystic Thing
Gods
JJB
“The psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight.” ― Joseph Campbell