That is Eden
where nothing may fall short
where crops of golden wheat,
cover the whole Earth.
where man and woman so alike
use sickles for harvest,
and javelins to strike.
And that which is not land in Paradise,
That’s what shields it from demise,
and that which is not firmament, nor crop, nor land,
is the sea which only God can command.
And that is Eden,
a rhythmic breath of wind.
An eternal respiration of all the good within,
releasing into freeborn air,
the Spirit of the righteous Heir.
10/15/2025
Maybe you do need to be less silent
make a sound a little violent
to sound much less compliant.
And if you do choose this way to go,
Your life won’t just be slow.
And every minute and every grace,
Would turn an hour into an endless race.
And if the rabbit and the hare had heard this sound,
They’d ask the scorpion to please be drowned.
And every lion and every king,
and every other little thing.
Would turn and coil like cigarettes,
until they longer posed no threats.
And for the bored it is a spear,
To impale you with despair.
To divide your peace and silence,
With the sound of ultra-violence.
10/15/2025