Number by number: we come to a head,
trying to distinguish our left and right,
living in a plane that’s fiery red,
and beholden to none. So, yes, i write
of things that, heretofore, would make no
physical sense—supported only by
faith or experiment, never the duo
in tandem. I can’t help but reason why
when my life falls short of the redemption
i planned, as a young man, seeking to
prove everything that others would shun,
if they knew all the things that i would do,
given the opportunity. Simply put,
I think i am better than all the rest,
and yet i step to it with my right foot,
and the world, beneath me, appears in jest,
a thing of the past. So i keep my nose
to the grindstone, believing, with a clue,
that I shan’t lose sight of what simply goes
without force or credit when credit’s due.
I wonder if my paintings have a life,
in the next dimension, of their own—
in that case, then, when i take a wife,
I’ll show her the seeds that i’ve sown
in this four dimensional existence.
Everything will have special appeal,
since, for years, I was driven hence,
and subject to what only i could feel.
My faith in myself and a life to come
will magnify my calling, and I’ll be
revered by those that pay His ransom,
as we must when the truth is for free,
and given to us. What a glorious day
will follow, then, when all my hard work
comes to fruition, i turn out okay,
and the world becomes what it would shirk—
a pyramid of people with His eye
at the top, leading us to a salvation
that happens continuously—the sky
is the limit, keeping to our reservation,
made, in this life, with our hopes and dreams.
Substantiate, i say, what all this means,
and it will happen in lieu of our schemes
to be as happy as Him. Greener scenes—
pastures, hills, mountains, and overlooks
that teem with life will be my reward,
leaving the devil to his tenterhooks,
and all the rest to a benevolent Lord.