***** head with seeming precarious fingers, pardon me...
               Just trying to recall the happy days, humble beginnings of a timorous kindergarden me...
Memory like a polaroid picture of lost lunch boxes and crayons, head jam
   No signs of Melodies or paranoid features in say...building blocks or clay toys instead of bread and jam
Red Marks on my Maths book from a merciless nun, but an exit wound
                    She loved to dread the spark, hence I took a meticulous calm to ace it good
Found Moses path to split the World like the Red Sea and find Yahweh
Spear Shakespeare's head with a prose of my own like a dead seed to sprout again...
This openness of eternity will at times bring empty wells
and hopelessness in creativity like three times when the Messiah fell
So I'll think of the End, finish and pass through this stage
With the Ink of the Pen about an inch to tattoo this page.