Perhaps the only way
to ever dream again..
is never to awake..
To dream forever.

Alas, Death lies..
there are
no dreams in it..
only eternal
dreamless sleep.

And so,
the only way
to dream forever..
is to live.

Even in the wildest storm
The Sun is always hiding
just behind a veil
of clouds..

All that it takes
to see it through
is vision..
not of what remains
obscured..
rather of that
which lies
beyond.

The gospel
of Apostle Death
begins not
in a tomb..
but rather
in a womb.
Where it is dark
and warm
and seemingly
quite safe..
Alas, so many
seedlings
never see
the light of day.

When we are born
and gasp for air
for our first time..
and shiver at …

What sense is there
in preaching
for the living..
The pious gospel
of The Fifth One..
by the name of Death?

It’s not as if
it is a message
that their guts
are strong enough
to readily digest.
Without them
puking out
their delicate
insides..

The wretched
stench of …

All that was born in fire
finds its rest eternal
in ash.
Even the brightest
lightning
vanishes in merely
but a flash.
Even the loudest
thunder
falls as silence
on deaf ears.

They do not smell
her smoky
fragrance..
Do not see her
coming..
And the echo
of her
footsteps …

A penny
for the tired
and resigned.
A dime
for lifelong
wasters
of their time.

A quarter
for the ones who
tried and failed.
A dollar
for the gritty few
who gave their all..
alas, to no avail.

As for The Ones
who never dared
to dream..
I love them …

Every end of ours
eventually meets
its means..
But only in
Death’s Kingdom..
of the ever-lasting
dreams.

Orion’s hounds
eventually reach
their prey..
And just in time
for the grand feast..
That’s waiting for us
at The End of
funeral parade
for buried dreams.

Blood flows like …

It is too easy..
To become complacent
and to seek escape.
To give up when the going
gets too tough..
and to allow yourself
the luxury to break.

To find solace
in your hopes for
the defibrillating
shock
of just one win..
Alas, where is
my long awaited
triumph?
The …

An unexamined life
is not worth living..
but is that, in itself,
a well-examined fact?
What is it about life
that we’re supposed
to be examining?
I say.. The Act.

The Act of what?
The Act of being
in itself.
The Act of presence
that you cannot
just subtract …

I render unto Caesar
what belongs
to Caesar.
To God I offer
that which Caesar
receives not..
And as
for man..
For him,
I have naught more
than but mere alms..
His meager lot.