LEGERDEMAIN
Why should I wallow in your tears or your gumballs,
neither, for that matter, matter to me. The guardrail
that leads to your altar is an incipient challenge to
mind. My own mind revolts at the excrescences brought
forth. You must agree : what you profess is what you
must believe. Three days of Death, and a man can arise.
After that, 40 days later, bodily rise to 'Heaven'; which
by today's standards of 'up' must be somewhere else.
You'd call it Faith, and so would I. (Wann'a buy a bridge)?
-
I'll sit at the mountaintop awaiting your sledge, oh holy
one better than me. I lift up my shirt to show you my
girth, oh stronger one than Man. The heavens shall
resound, the thunder, the sound, the thrilling percussion
of Salvation and Grave thrumming along.
How long shall it be before my own
body simply runs down and
reaches its course? I don't
really want to know.
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