In the beginning there was the Word…
The raw material from which existence came to being.
The Word that shouted Light into the black sun
The Word that shouted water into the ocean, seas that pierced the land by rivers which gave a premature birth to streams, evolved now to taps; running water immobilized by metallic pieces of the now creation.
The tongue that spoke the language of footpaths
Translated to streets, news meant for roads understood only by avenues. Thus made sense to forsaken boulevards preaching highways and singing freeways to the silent point, till there was no way! But the Word, that created All That Is. The All.
Seconds pass minutes paralyzed by hours that skipped blind dates and jumped dark days chasing the not so strong sequence of days…weeks with wings flying beneath the brutal mouth of months swallowing full moons and regurgitating years; broken particles of decades mended by the invisible hands that built centuries holding with numb hands flames to light years and cremate eternity to no time but ashes that form The All.
“Nothing can rise higher than its source!”
Index toes. Tip toeing. Loud sign languages. Tick talking.
Fingers walking the day and running the night.
Cuff hands within the clock and arrest time.
The end of day and night, future and past.
Time: the old madman; a wizard; with the elixir of life beneath his tongue, immortal being perpetuated by the unseen supreme force with an invisible rope pulling to the east and unattached arms pushing to the west, to maintain the infinite agony in man’s mind.
Punctuality is the new devil and man has lost kind.
Space hates time, now matter has melted into mystery.
Misery has befriended joyful lips and now all you get is a fake smile.
“If you think your life is unfair, you can take mine diamonds are forever a dream
I found peace in the dark, so I speak dime into coal till I see it shine!” spoke the walls.
The also can speak you know, as much as they hear.
They heard when the word shouted stillness into their rigid bodies and unshaken they remain.
Mountains that obeyed the word and even this day they cast low shadows in bowing to The All.
“There is nothing else to define, confine, bound, limit, or restrict The All.”
“Answer to the great question. How did all this come to be?”
“The mystical moment of creation. How we all would die to see!”
Words of paranoid clouds yelled to the low self esteemed sky.
“Every night a star is born!” responded the shy sky.
And from the fabric of life a strand is torn.
Father Universe is slowly getting naked, clothes abandon outfits, forsake costumes and ditch garments it’s apparent the death of apparels. God hides beneath the invisibility cloak.
Clocks hit noon; Sky slips into her black dress with blushing diamonds. She’s got a date with a male: tough shoulders and soft knees, with no directions he goes by the name Destiny. Never has he fallen victim of any short cuts.
Pilgrims have died on their right paths, left luggages lying in truth fields; sunflowers that oiled their hearts. Now their cracking fossils form his body parts.
“Hear me retards! Every event in your life is predetermined, so trying to fight me like a circulating rumor…is pointless!”
By the hand that wrote you into life, the very hand that painted you into existence; your destiny was determined.
All you have to do is follow omens. Be one with the clan of mortals praying with their heads rooted in quicksand; the fast and reliable transportation medium of prayers to the deserted gods; the underworld messengers of balance to celestials.
They hold in their sacred hands magnets that glued Sir Moon to Madam Earth.
They are the source of gravity. They are gravity.
These mortals pray as to be granted the ability to access visions of an old man’s eye, reading omens, angels fly holding injections with royal blood to pump into totems.
Tokens of the absolute, answers to solving problems of x-axis so we don’t have to ask why in the mental plane short is the opposite of both long and tall.
“May the united verses grant us eternal wisdom to comprehend The All”
They were sailors polluting the content water of the sea with shouts of: I AM GOD!
When in actual fact the truth dissects perception and all pretentious acts, directs lost ship to accurate relations, so both interact with tranquility and euphoria is intact. Hearts beat with bliss mimicking dance of insane insects.
In actual fact man is just a part of God, his soul combined with the next and all that is within the circumference of the universe then forms God.
God is not a content of one soul, but all souls are contents of God.
God is all that is…
The raw material from which existence came to being.
The Word that shouted Light into the black sun
The Word that shouted water into the ocean, seas that pierced the land by rivers which gave a premature birth to streams, evolved now to taps; running water immobilized by metallic pieces of the now creation.
The tongue that spoke the language of footpaths
Translated to streets, news meant for roads understood only by avenues. Thus made sense to forsaken boulevards preaching highways and singing freeways to the silent point, till there was no way! But the Word, that created All That Is. The All.
Seconds pass minutes paralyzed by hours that skipped blind dates and jumped dark days chasing the not so strong sequence of days…weeks with wings flying beneath the brutal mouth of months swallowing full moons and regurgitating years; broken particles of decades mended by the invisible hands that built centuries holding with numb hands flames to light years and cremate eternity to no time but ashes that form The All.
“Nothing can rise higher than its source!”
Index toes. Tip toeing. Loud sign languages. Tick talking.
Fingers walking the day and running the night.
Cuff hands within the clock and arrest time.
The end of day and night, future and past.
Time: the old madman; a wizard; with the elixir of life beneath his tongue, immortal being perpetuated by the unseen supreme force with an invisible rope pulling to the east and unattached arms pushing to the west, to maintain the infinite agony in man’s mind.
Punctuality is the new devil and man has lost kind.
Space hates time, now matter has melted into mystery.
Misery has befriended joyful lips and now all you get is a fake smile.
“If you think your life is unfair, you can take mine diamonds are forever a dream
I found peace in the dark, so I speak dime into coal till I see it shine!” spoke the walls.
The also can speak you know, as much as they hear.
They heard when the word shouted stillness into their rigid bodies and unshaken they remain.
Mountains that obeyed the word and even this day they cast low shadows in bowing to The All.
“There is nothing else to define, confine, bound, limit, or restrict The All.”
“Answer to the great question. How did all this come to be?”
“The mystical moment of creation. How we all would die to see!”
Words of paranoid clouds yelled to the low self esteemed sky.
“Every night a star is born!” responded the shy sky.
And from the fabric of life a strand is torn.
Father Universe is slowly getting naked, clothes abandon outfits, forsake costumes and ditch garments it’s apparent the death of apparels. God hides beneath the invisibility cloak.
Clocks hit noon; Sky slips into her black dress with blushing diamonds. She’s got a date with a male: tough shoulders and soft knees, with no directions he goes by the name Destiny. Never has he fallen victim of any short cuts.
Pilgrims have died on their right paths, left luggages lying in truth fields; sunflowers that oiled their hearts. Now their cracking fossils form his body parts.
“Hear me retards! Every event in your life is predetermined, so trying to fight me like a circulating rumor…is pointless!”
By the hand that wrote you into life, the very hand that painted you into existence; your destiny was determined.
All you have to do is follow omens. Be one with the clan of mortals praying with their heads rooted in quicksand; the fast and reliable transportation medium of prayers to the deserted gods; the underworld messengers of balance to celestials.
They hold in their sacred hands magnets that glued Sir Moon to Madam Earth.
They are the source of gravity. They are gravity.
These mortals pray as to be granted the ability to access visions of an old man’s eye, reading omens, angels fly holding injections with royal blood to pump into totems.
Tokens of the absolute, answers to solving problems of x-axis so we don’t have to ask why in the mental plane short is the opposite of both long and tall.
“May the united verses grant us eternal wisdom to comprehend The All”
They were sailors polluting the content water of the sea with shouts of: I AM GOD!
When in actual fact the truth dissects perception and all pretentious acts, directs lost ship to accurate relations, so both interact with tranquility and euphoria is intact. Hearts beat with bliss mimicking dance of insane insects.
In actual fact man is just a part of God, his soul combined with the next and all that is within the circumference of the universe then forms God.
God is not a content of one soul, but all souls are contents of God.
God is all that is…
The Word_Universe_The All.
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