The Aforelife After Death
Winds chilled from the first fresh season of flowery green soft summer
rain;
leaves;
sky.
I’m going away from here, and still can’t say.
I’ll arrive there, though,
where it is,
this I can tell.
There I was before
birth
I sensed that, and will go there,
I once thought
but know
now.
Reflection
Hauled up in a dirty motel room,
performing brain surgery on myself again.
In a room without mirrors–
in a room constructed of mirrors.
Thank You God for letting me exist
for a short time as
one of the sane.
Thank You for letting me see what this is like.
Thank You for letting me stare at Your horrifying blue sky
without terror,
and Your hideous world without pain.
While I am hopelessly lost
in love.
