Religion is
your grandmother sleeping,
When you're four and sitting alone
after dark
When your aunt lingers in silence
and lights one up under an ocean
of emptiness, in cold light,
while the white night-
gown drapes the knees
and bare bones warming
under mortality's thin skin
Religion is waving warning
and smiling under a fading haze
of black stratum
of burnt out sexuality, nonexistent,
Is feeling comfort in absence of
the Sun, of levitating in gravity's wake,
to swim in birth's pride and fade
in death's grace.
To remember the dead-eye
of drifting in silence
to meditate Zero's ecstasy
and forever, ever, ever echo
the mercy of sterile wisdom.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:16 AM UTC
Religion is
your grandmother sleeping,
When you're four and sitting alone
after dark
When your aunt lingers in silence
and lights one up under an ocean
of emptiness, in cold light,
while the white night-
gown drapes the knees
and bare bones warming
under mortality's thin skin
Religion is waving warning
and smiling under a fading haze
of black stratum
of burnt out sexuality, nonexistent,
Is feeling comfort in absence of
the Sun, of levitating in gravity's wake,
to swim in birth's pride and fade
in death's grace.
To remember the dead-eye
of drifting in silence
to meditate Zero's ecstasy
and forever, ever, ever echo
the mercy of sterile wisdom.
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