Twelve Bar Blues

Answeres without questions that should never be.

Parish light. Moonbeams that

cease to exist in reality, yet I

see them clearly. How can

that be if I am not here with

you? In thought only do these

colors flow, yet the music is

real, but then, no one can be

sure of anything. Only the

lies of he we refer to simply

as Him hold the truth of a

nature beyond this place:

this living hell of life before life;

death after the living of

our souls without the shells.

But I digress, or digest, from

the taste of the flesh of the weak

of mind and spirit. Only the

body goes, can fly within

and without the wings needed to

get out. To escape un-hurt;

un-affected by the colossal

waves of the invisible mass

of darkness that presses and

drowns us like the rats populating

the recesses of a dirty junkyard.

But isn’t that the point of all this;

to test the limits of one’s own

disemboweled thoughts?

Aren’t we all designed and built

for the singular purpose of

searching for the answer of

what lies beyond the before time?

I can here them, lurking in the shadows.

I see, yet it all remains un-seen to me.

For I am blind, deaf and dumb.

Amazing Grace, indeed.

I remain. I live on.