Post by Steve on Sept 29, 2005 4:51:56 GMT -5
but who am i but an insect fly sitting waiting for my unrationally abrupt death, thinking that all is ephemeral and that every mountain is just a stairwell leading to the great heavenly astral attic where all the sleeping cherubs lie upon their angel's laps-halo resting below their eyes and harps are now put aside, notes and strings are no more twinged, no there are no more heavy rests or helium quarters to drop down and raise your soul-this is life kid-nothing different from nothing. and at the top of every mountain i see that the entry has just escaped me-so i slide down that side thinking of sinking further into my stride to make to the water in good time-where confusion is drowned in rivers like china baby blue-but i am catholic and my lungs fell beneath the waters too and to this day i haven't been the same since they lowered me closer to hell. but the river`swhere we'll bathe in nude our bodies glistening like dew-molecules piled upon molecules we are mountains ourselves-the only difference kid s`that we crumble and return to nothingness.