Its Coming
My life passing by
Me signing for this
Mystery, cold chilled
Feel it like a thousand
Tiny knives prickling
Up an upward hike
Wish I had a bike
To psych myself
Out and explore
This new brave
World underneath
This symphonic
Score, irascible
Trust, the stars
Can only combust
When He commands
And gives cue
Like super glue
He’s stuck
Its more than
Just good luck,
Its not my
Skill with the
Puck, but its each
Lug, each wood floor
Rug
Eye sties
Blinded skies
Stand tries
To sit can’t
Quit this
Race, highs,
Lows, right
Handed claws
To the face,
Out of place
Suture together
The future of this
Wound aiming
Stupendously
At the moon
Playing the quasar
Guitar of endless
Vibrations and
Punctuations where
East meets west,
And the stifled
Past stench, fixed
By a wrench, fingers
Orchestrated to create
A new undistracted
Way, a guiding light
That will surpass
Brain, right from left,
Above the bane of
Suspect subpoena,
God is higher than
You and I, this is why
I don’t ask why, I worship
Past the sky
