The Empyrean



This is one for the poets

Two for the reals 

Khalil to the Gibran

Pray each day for three sets of meals

Four is in store

Refining all five of my senses

A sextet of skills 

So that I may one day lay 

In the Empyrean

The ascension of the millenarian

Among 7 billion souls

Far too many stories to unfold


At the bank


Heaven and Hell

Seven layers, seven circles

More than 7 dimensions

Possibly eleven

All theories of speculation


There is no heaven


Interconnected in speculation

Variations in belief

Chaos reigns as spectatorship ensues

Knowledge is sought

Above those who accuse

Gliding among the stars

It is my calling

Into the abyss 

My heart's gone cold

Looking for hands to hold


The Empyrean

Is where I lay atop

On plush billows

Ever so soft

A specter of myself floats below

Now unbeknownst; someone that I used to know

All set in between

Congenial dreams

And flesh that screams


Wringing those who bleed

Let those who plead be freed

The need to plant the seed


Confusing those who read

Alluring those who dream.

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