I had not died the thousand times I’ve tried or mercifully relented to the hand that kept me from eternity. In dancing my timeless trot, Rethinking each old thought I remembered what had been taught about the things we should or ought. Embraced by the perfect envelope of someone’s greater intention, glued to objectives beyond my plan, outside my scope, up a downward-sloping righteous left turn to somewhere I’d never gone with directions in a language beyond my reckoning. I wept when I should have cried told the truth when I clearly should have lied and relived the thousand times I almost died in perpetuity. All the while a smile graced my face like a comedian from outer space I looked upon this reality and guffawed openly.

Transdental does not mean moving teeth but the science of compliance within a maze run by ferrets that inherits its rule of engagement from a cruelish segment seeking comic relief in the brief tragic failure of man’s hopeful flight. When we’ve seen dawn no sundown measures the treasures of awakening to one’s next chance at life. Resplendent opportunity practiced with impunity, in obscurity lacking surety on a horizon with no beginning racing toward the end. Whom shall I befriend, when the sheriff seems a miscreant and the angel’s non committal in rehearsal of fates reversal, studying universal truths with local prospectus non comformis ad homenim in formatum. That there’s is hair at all for the cat to make a ball choking out the squall from time’s tragic tempest set to metronome.

Clearly nothing fades, no colors revert to shades the sharpest crimson blades do not steal the fake from real nor end the whole ordeal as we’ve been invited to a meal set for Sinners come to Saints. One faints in realization of salvation of a nation locked down by proclamation without career or recreation to sing of the thing that we though came with Spring. No Author of our quandary no logic to our wondery mixed in with dirty laundry we found the Hopeful thing. Among the misbegotten, set aside from all that’s rotten, the metal had been wrought in the recycling that we’d brought in that others had forgotten we found the answers to treasures in measures meant for Kingdoms well beyond us we enjoyed by those with scant appetite and faded to history a mystery for Pathologists.

Stride found in miles wondering aloud how the proud ran the race with no shoes and no place to put the baggage we’d collected, somehow its all connected so quizzically predilected while most stood by unaffected. It all has been determined, the rats eternally vermined, the Nazi’s are still Germaned and wanting of a war. The soar above the heaven in their virtue and their leaven wanting that it all was seven not a remix of six upon six. We waited at the portal to become something other than mere mortal. All the while a pile of passion and regret over which we eternally fret never wanting to forget that we are the Teacher’s Pet destined for some higher learning and the others to inquiry’s burning the lakes forever churning in the memories of what was. Too peaceful to be brutal to useful for discard we had to think so hard and long of a sufficient little song to sing the Tale of Wrong done Right for for when they set to flight with High Priest just to the Right of the Father we all Love.