To Abraxas, With Love
How do I take even one more breath?
Chaos released; the grief-ridden head.
The moment of death, chained of youth,
that which is meet, right and salutary,
would stand strong, speaking the truth.
My feelings, I try to brush them aside,
like the last ride on my sweet Abraxas.
Running quarters, God’s own messenger.
The world lied to me, guiltless; smiling.
Conviction; destroy the power of war,
and prepare us for all that is in store.
Please make no meaningless promises.
My heart will simply dissolve away.
Today, the reality raised of God’s light;
Several fish, and five loaves of bread.
Dead of inspiration, Mr Devon Browne,
Died, the morning of 1998, in a bomb blast;
although no smouldering flesh was found.
Safety in the dark, six feet underground.
Lay still, brother, under Clover, stay down.
Feel your freedom over, deserved cousin;
your pure soul reaching into the heavens;
gleaming, persistent judgment above.
The only judgment was rightly given, in time.
The judgment of undeserved love.
