Some label the grave cold, dark, rigid, desolate - I am not one of them.
Vision-quest travels have impinged in me huge beauty, higher vitality, a permanent brightness of transience - it sticks like an aroma of home and cannot be unexperienced.
Easter’s meaning sweats my sensitivities: ‘O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’ - notification of reality beyond mere hope paying no mind to vile church histories, perverted priests enslaving theologies and burned cathedrals.
Hi there, how are you? ........hello, anyone there? Just kidding!
We haven't corresponded before and I've never met you, or even heard from you, but there has been plenty of stuff written about you. It's all old material now though and scribed by ghost writers back in the day, I guess they're just 'ghosts' now though!
You'll have to excuse my flippant joviality (some might say "sarcastic" - hey, whatever!). Anyway, as you may or may not know, I fell from Heaven into Hell a long time ago and I'm just hoping that you don't bear me any ill...
I saw their souls, their souls were whole I saw their religion, it was divisive My way is right they said Ergo everyone else must be wrong Same reason for killing Same old song
Think ye then that your god is so small So narrow that he/she built but one path to the well? Do tell, your dogma denies you the power of thought The priests of perdition ought To cast aside all pride Rejoice with one voice
We are but microbes on a grain of sand Spinning on an endless beach eternally So, beg, beseech, howl, screech ...