There's no hurry
For one to worry
About the end
Of days.
Is there Spirit?
Will we meet?
Will you have wings
To lift your feet
To prance and dance
On sheep-shaped clouds,
Or put a halo round my head,
Lift *******
To raise the dead,
To incarnate,
Transmigrate,
Regenerate.
I'd be okay
To disintegrate,
Adding mass
To a world
Growing in depravity,
And losing its gravity.